


The Horn of Cathbadh

by Aradia_MoonFlare



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: I have no life outside of Merlin just warning you, I might do a second one like that, I think there's supposed to be a plot but I haven't decided yet, Multi, My First AO3 Post, My First Work in This Fandom, Please Kill Me, also i'm really sorry if anyone is out of character, and just everyone would be so worried about Merlin because he's constantly talking to himself, anyway, anyway I hope y'all like it, but really he's talking to arthur, cause I dont, either merlin just summons him every year or he releases Arthurs spirit, i hope you like my original characters, im having merlin withdrawls, merlin summons Arthur with the horn of cathbadh cause I think its cute, most of the characters from the show are just briefly mentioned because this is a reincarnation au, no smut because that makes me uncomfy so suck it up, there's gonna be a really slow burn because im hopless at writing relationships, this honestly couldd have gone two different ways, we need more content before we die, who can guess who Griffin is based off lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:54:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26533948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aradia_MoonFlare/pseuds/Aradia_MoonFlare
Summary: Merlin has been awaiting Arthurs return for over a thousand years, and it hasn't gotten easier over time. granted, it does help that he mastered the Horn of Cathbadh, an ancient horn with the power to summon spirits of the dead. Every year at Beltane, Merlin drives the two hour long drive to The Great Stones of Nemeton, where he summons the spirit of his lost king. But what is he supposed to do when one year, the summoning doesn't work?Arthur has been watching over Merlin since the day he arrived in Avalon, the land of the dead. Greeted by his mother upon arriving, Arthur is taught the mechanics of the afterlife, and is reunited with long lost friends and family. Imagine his astonishment when, over a thousand years later, Merlin still hasn't joined him in the spirit world.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 39
Kudos: 95





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first ever Merlin fan fiction so please be nice to me :)  
> If you have any constructive criticism though, feel free to let me know!

Present Day, April 30th, 21st century

_**I’m a sorcerer.** _

_**I have magic.** _

_Images and memories played on a loop in Merlin’s head. Arthur’s smile. His brilliant blue eyes. His adorable laugh. His golden hair._

_Bright, happy flashes filled with light and warmth. The two of them in the tavern, betting against each other while the whole room watched and cheered. In Arthur’s chambers, as Merlin tore open the curtains and laughed at Arthur’s protests against the morning. Riding side by side, locked in a vicious banter that had the knights behind them laughing so hard they nearly fell off their horses._

_But somewhere along the way, the memories changed. Arthur’s obnoxious grin was slowly replaced with a pained grimace. His eyes lost their brilliance. He stood in front of Merlin, slowly morphing, until he looked aged. Worried. Burdened._

_A dark red wound blossomed in his side, and Merlin watched, terrified, unable to move, as the life left his best friend._

_But Arthur smiled. That bloody smile. It had lost all of its joy, all of its humor. But it still held all of its love._

_**Thank you.** _

Merlin shot up in bed, eyes wide in panic. “ _Arthur_.” He breathed, his heart racing. Slowly, his eyes adjusted to the dim light of his bedroom. Realizing where he was, Merlin released a heavy sigh, and let his body fall back onto the mattress. His nightmares had not changed, nor faded in over a thousand years. Every night he was haunted by that beautiful face, and those last words of gratitude. Thank you? For what? Failing in the one thing he was supposed to do? Every one of those tireless efforts to keep his friend safe, all to be deemed useless by a single blade.

The wooden floorboards creaked across the room from him, and Merlin didn’t have to look up to know Aithusa would be there, stumbling over on crippled legs, worried about his master. It was a common occurrence, for Merlin to be woken up in the middle of the night, screaming Arthur’s name, grabbing for thin air, his body wracked with sobs. The poor dragon had to put up with his master’s constant need for comfort, just as he did for the witch Morgana, all those years ago. Aithusa made a low gurgling sound in his throat, and laid his head on Merlin’s lap, closing his eyes with happiness as Merlin reached down to stroke his beautiful scales.

Aithusa still struggled to walk, and his broken joints made it difficult to sleep. No amount of magic could reverse the effects of the dark pit in which he had been held. But Merlin had made certain to feed him a large meal every hour of the day, until his ribs were no longer visible.

In the beginning, Merlin refused to have anything to do with Aithusa. The young dragon had ventured off on his own after Morgana fell, and began to seek out Camelot, where Merlin had returned with the news of Arthur’s death. Not long after, Queen Guinevere made magic fully legal in Camelot once more. Unless you caused harm to the kingdom or it’s people, you were free to practice your talents as much as you liked. So while many would be terrified at the sight of an adolescent dragon, Merlin could not be punished if Aithusa was seen.

However, when Aithusa came to Camelot, Merlin turned him away.

Gaius had pointed out that it had been quite harsh — a young dragon must have a role model, and it was obvious Kilgarrah was too old to be an adequate guardian. But Merlin would not listen. He was filled with anger and grief, and would not see reason. Aithusa had forged the blade that had brought the downfall of his King. Merlin wished he had never called him from his egg.

It took many tries, but Gaius finally reminded Merlin of his duties as the last dragon lord. Aithusa was weak, crippled, and inexperienced. He had imprinted on Morgana and did not know enough of the world to realize she was evil, nor had he seen all Kilgarrah had, to know not to forge a blade with his breath.

Reluctantly, Merlin had found a small clearing not far from the castle, and made it suitable for a growing dragon. Aithusa stayed there, being taught by Merlin, and learning as he grew. It took many years, but finally Merlin forgave Aithusa completely, and often went to the young dragon when he was upset or overwhelmed.

Now, thousands of years later, Aithusa lived curled up in the largest room of Merlin’s home. At first, Merlin had been scared about how big Aithusa would be full grown. He certainly would not have been able to house Kilgarrah. But the damage Aithusa took when he was young, prevented him from growing to a dragons average size. Because of this, Merlin could keep him close and not have to worry about a pedestrian gawking at the sight of a giant white dragon.

The warlock put his arm around Aithusa’s neck, trying to calm his breathing. He reached blindly for the candle on his nightstand — he liked to use traditional methods of lighting a room — and called it to life, his eyes dancing with golden flame.

Aithusa chirped with annoyance at the sudden bright light. Merlin chuckled and set the candle back down, holding his dragon’s head between his hands. “Sorry, boy. But I can’t very well see in a room this dark.”

Aithusa grumbled in protest, backing away from the bed, and stumbling into the kitchen. Merlin watched him leave, the smile on his face slowly fading.

Now basking in the candlelight, he studied the walls of his bedroom. Over the years he had tacked up pictures of his favorite places. Places forgotten by men. Places only he knew the significance of. Maps, paintings, photos. They calmed him down when he looked at them. After much practice, he had gotten fairly good at drawing and watercolor paint as well, and now he had countless renditions of Arthur, and all of his friends, captured in life and youth, smiling as though they hadn’t died thousands of years ago.

Merlin lived in Wells, England. It was about an hours drive from where the ruins of Camelot stood, lost and forgotten. He built his house less than 20 minutes from Arthur’s resting place, The Lake of Avalon. Sadly, it was no longer a lake. The water had dried up, and the island that had been in the center became nothing but a hill, weathered away by centuries of receding water levels. The people of the modern world named the area Glastonbury Tor. Even though much had changed, Merlin would still sit beneath the tower and feel the magic that had been left behind.

The Dragonlord looked out the window, and saw the pink rays of the sunrise. Giving up on sleep, he swung his feet out from under his blankets, stepping out of bed and stretching.

Pulling on a large red shirt, he stumbled over to the full body mirror propped up in the corner of his room. His reflection stared back at him, a form that Merlin had come to hate. He was an old man, with a shaved grey beard, long white hair, and wrinkled skin. Merlin turned away, sighing. He could, of course change his appearance to match that of a younger person, but Merlin found it unnecessary. No one recognized him either way. Time and age were such irrelevant things to Merlin, that he could reverse both, without expending any energy at all. But while he may have hated himself as an old man, he hated his young version even more. He didn’t deserve to look healthy and youthful, when everything he had ever loved in life had shriveled up and died.

He followed Aithusa to the kitchen and lazily dropped a single slice of bread in the toaster. Two thousand years had not changed his cleaning habits, and his kitchen was a mess. Dirty dishes sat in the sink, an abundance of magnets held even more postcards and photos. A dying plant sat sadly in the windowsill. Merlin waved his hand, said, **“dychwelyd bywyd.”** And the stem straightened itself out, the leaves wilting in reverse, until they were once again a healthy green. Aithusa barked at the window, and Merlin, not wanting to take any chances, shut the blinds with a blink of his eyes.

It was a rather amazing thing to see. The famous wizard had lived so long and gained so much experience, that there was not a single spell that he could not preform. He used magic so naturally in his home life that he barely even thought about it. The newly made toast popped up, and he got a dish from the cupboard, before his eyes flashed gold and the bread flung itself onto the plate.

He hummed as he spread butter on it, trying to kill the lingering memories from his nightmare.

Across the room, the Telly blared to life, crackling with static until Merlin, using his magic to push the remote buttons, settled on the News Channel.

Aithusa curled up in the corner of the kitchen, making a sort of chortling noise that resembled the bubbly laughter of a baby. Merlin looked over at him and grinned, despite not being able to understand whatever it was his dragon was trying to say.

Merlin still found it sad that Aithusa had never learned to talk. When he thought about it, he decided he would like to have a conversation with the magical creature. If nothing else it would make it that much easier for them to understand one another. Kilgarrah had been effectively human in everything but his appearance. He could talk, laugh, and teach. Because Aithusa could do none of those things, he seemed more like a pet dog than anything else.

Merlin sat on the small couch in his living room, eyes trained on the television. The woman speaking was going on about some natural disaster, and her voice quickly became white noise as Merlin instead chose to focus on his toast. He forced himself to take a bite, grimacing as if he were in pain. Everyday he found it harder and harder to reawaken his appetite. The only thing he ever wanted to consume was coffee from the café across town. It might have tasted horrible, but at least it helped him stay awake, which kept the bloody awful nightmares away.

Merlin looked at a concealed compartment on the other end of the room, and muttered a small incantation. The compartment, which served as a safe, clicked open, and a thousand year old book flew across the living room and landed delicately in Merlin’s lap. He smiled, but it wasn’t a happy expression. He had to fight the urge to tense, his body expecting a cuff ‘round the head from Gaius, who had always opposed using his talents for minor tasks that he could complete like a normal person. The book sitting in his lap was the very same one that Gaius had gifted to him, wrapped in red fabric, after the first time he had saved Arthur’s life. He had told Gaius that he would study every word, and he had not been lying. By now, Merlin could recite the entire thing from memory, listing the pages, and the spells effects, and what parts weren’t even bound to the book. It had become a part of him, and he knew it inside and out. There was no real reason for him to keep reading it, but Merlin did it anyway.

He supposed it was because it had such a clear connection to his golden days. The time of Camelot and of Prince Arthur. The time that he could never go back to.

:::

Several hours passed as Merlin flipped back and fourth through the pages of the spell book, mouthing the words silently as he read them. He could envision his old room in Gaius’s chambers. The cabinet in the corner that never held anything, the dirty clothes thrown across the floor, the old, unstable bed that was still a blessing after sleeping on the cold ground in Ealdor for so long.

He grinned as he thought of his adoptive father walking in, face alighting with anger, and reprimanding him for not being careful. Asking what Merlin would have done if Arthur had walked in instead of him.

He could smell the strong scent of wildflowers, from when he would run out to see Aithusa after an upsetting encounter with another servant, or a knight, or a complete stranger. He had always brought the book with him, and read to Aithusa until he could hear the young dragon’s wheeze-like snores.

Merlin sighed, closing the book and feeling content to just stare at the cover. In the beginning, remembering had been painful. He wanted to go back in time so badly that it hurt to look at pieces of his old life. But after a while, his memories became a sort of safe haven. Sure, it could also be a minefield. Thinking about his life in Camelot also brought some memories that he didn’t like to think about. But if he managed to only remember the good bits, it would always be the happiest he felt throughout the day. Helping Gwaine and Percival sneak food out of the palace kitchens. Sharing knowing glances with Lancelot every time he preformed magic, while everyone else was oblivious. Listening to Gaius ramble about science and medicine. The memories carried the euphoria felt from the actual moment, and Merlin often lost himself in thinking about the past. Today was no different.

Finally Merlin pulled himself free of his own head, and checked the clock. 9:00 am. Following through with his morning routine, Merlin grabbed a coat and hat, which he pulled down over his ears, nodded a goodbye to Aithusa, and stepped outside. Nearly every day, Merlin stopped by a small coffee shop, called Morning Necessities. It rarely had customers, and Merlin found the place very warm and comfortable.

It was across town, but Merlin didn’t mind the walk. He owned a car, of course, but he rarely used it. Instead, it sat collecting dust in his garage, along with several things taken from Camelot, preserved in a glass case. A creepy rabbit mask from Gaius’s chambers, that Merlin used to tease him endlessly about, a small stringed instrument that Merlin had never learned how to play until Camelot was in ruins, and a ton of other useless junk that he couldn’t bring himself to throw out.

When Merlin entered the little shop, he was huffing for breath, his cheeks pink from the cold morning air. A young woman at the counter smiled at him. Her name was Gabby, and she had been working at Morning for almost three years now. Merlin, having come to the shop everyday it was open, knew her well, and she knew him.

“Mr. Morgan!” She exclaimed, using the name he had made for himself, which was much more normal than _Merlin_ or _Emrys_. “Welcome! We opened an hour ago, I almost thought you would miss my shift!”

Gabby was relatively young, in her early twenties, and had the enthusiasm of a six year old. She had blonde hair that was always pulled into a fluffy ponytail, and bright green eyes. She was Merlin’s favorite out of all the employees. He grinned. “And have to put up with Nathan? Never!” Nathan was a bit younger, and was new to work. He was a nice kid, but somehow managed to cause trouble with every step he took. Merlin couldn’t quite complain, because he had been the exact same way growing up.

Gabby laughed. “Oh, don’t be too hard on him. I heard he got through yesterday without breaking a single plate!”

Merlin feigned surprise. “Not one? Well that’s definitely progress!”

They continued their lighthearted conversation without any issue, but eventually other people came into the store, and Merlin was forced to take a seat and let them order.

Soon enough Gabby brought his coffee to him. Employees were supposed to call out names and make the customer get up to grab their order, but being #1 favorite customer had its advantages. Ever since Gabby learned that Merlin walked through town every morning, she began to fret about his age, and refused to let him walk any further, even if it was just to the counter.

Merlin found it ridiculous, but he didn’t protest.

That day was probably the busiest it had been for some time. Most customers came in and left soon after, but some stayed for a while. There was a small group of young men, who came bursting in, laughing and talking very loudly. Merlin grumbled a complaint into his coffee, not looking up at them.

The group — made up of four men in their late twenties — settled down in a corner behind Merlin.

One had blonde hair, but Merlin couldn’t see his face. Another had thick black hair and relatively dark skin, and the other two may as well have been twins, because they had matching brown hair and thin beards.

One of them threw his coat on his chair, took his friends orders, and walked over to the counter. He was one of the brown haired blokes, and up close Merlin saw that the only difference between him and the other one was his height. He was maybe two inches shorter, and wore a bright, child-like expression, while the other was more reserved.

One of his friends behind him called, “Does that mean you’re paying?” Merlin tried his hardest to not pay attention, but something drew him to the voice.

The brunette going to the counter spun around. “No way! You guys are paying for your own drinks.”

Gabby gave him a tight smile, and took the names of him and his friends, which Merlin didn’t hear. The man at the counter winked, and Gabby nodded politely, scribbling something down. He continued to flirt with her, and she sighed, looking at him with a complete deadpan expression.

Merlin smirked, knowing what Gabby was about to say, after watching hundreds of other scenes exactly like this.

“I’m gay. But thanks.”

The man blinked, then grinned, embarrassed. “Oh! My bad. Uh… sorry.” He awkwardly made his way back over to his table, where his friends immediately waved at Gabby to apologize, then started making fun of him.

“Seriously? Must you flirt with every girl you come across?” The familiar voice spoke up again, not even bothering to whisper.

Merlin looked up at Gabby, and they exchanged a smile. She turned away and began to ready the four coffees, still grinning. While she would never return their expressions of interest, Merlin knew that she was always flattered when random people found her attractive. Her self esteem seemed to jump, and she held herself with a bit more confidence for the rest of the day.

Merlin finished his coffee, hissing at the bitter taste, even though it had been effectively drowned in sugar. He pondered whether or not he should leave, since his quiet haven had been taken over by the group of friends, who were being obnoxiously loud.

However, he decided to stay until Gabby’s shift ended. He didn’t want to go back to his house so soon, and his young friend was good company.

She finished the group’s coffees one at a time, and called out each of the men’s names in turn.

Griffin and Kendrix were the two brunettes, Griffin still flustered from misjudging Gabby’s sexuality. Axel was the dark skinned bloke. He nodded at Gabby in thanks, and went back to his seat.

The last name to be called made Merlin jump. He had heard it so often over the years, but it always made him feel as if he had taken a heavy blow to the ribs.

“Arthur?”

The young blonde stood up, and Merlin stared down at the table, hearing his footsteps approach the counter.

Merlin closed his eyes, forcing himself to take deep breaths. He had to remind himself that it was a common name. He had met plenty of people named Arthur, including the man who wrote the brilliant story of Sherlock Holmes. His reaction had dulled over time, fading from hope and excitement, to desperation, and eventually to sadness and longing.

Merlin felt hot tears in his eyes, and abandoned his plan to stay for a while longer.

Keeping his head down, he made his way to the door. Gabby looked up, surprised. “Leaving already?”

Merlin gave her a weak smile, praying she would not see through it. “I just remembered I had a plate of food out on the table, and forgot to put Aithusa in his crate. I need to go before he eats it and makes himself sick. I hope you have a nice rest of your day.”

Thinking Aithusa was a Golden Retriever, Gabby smiled and waved goodbye. “You too. See you tomorrow!”

Merlin nodded and left, trying not to appear too rushed. He could feel the young man’s — Arthur’s — eyes on him the whole way out.

He knew better than to look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You will not believe how many times I checked over this to make sure everything was perfect. I did a read through like ten times, and I'm still worried that there might be typos. Anyway, I hope you liked it, I'm gonna try to get up the second chapter by Friday next week :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a flashback chapter depicting Arthur's death and his experience in the afterlife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly did not expect to get so much attention in so little time. So thank you to all the people who bookmarked, commented, or left kudos on this story, it meant the world to me. I was actually having a bit of a hard time with school, and then I checked my email and saw the comments, and my mood improved tenfold. Thank you so much.
> 
> Also, I forgot to mention. there will be different symbols that I'm going to use throughout the story, to represent different things. Here's the guide:  
> ::: = time skip  
> (•) = POV change  
> *** = start/end of a flashback (this entire chapter is a flashback so I'm not gonna use these)
> 
> Thanks for reading!

1500+ Years Ago, 540 AD

  
Arthur thought he would be afraid of death.

But now he realized that he had simply been afraid of dying before he was ready. 

The reveal of Merlin’s magic had been shocking. They had spent almost a decade together, and Arthur was baffled that he had not figured it out sooner. His previous anger at being deceived had faded, however. Merlin had lied to him, sure. But he hadn’t betrayed him. 

He was grateful for the few days that allowed him to think over everything Merlin had done for him. He had already known that Merlin was brave, and exceedingly loyal. But this new revelation opened his eyes to so much more. A deep, uncontrollable affection for his manservant unfolded inside of him, the power of it enough to stop his heart even without the metal shard inside his chest. 

After everything, Arthur was ready to greet death. But not until he said all he needed too. By sheer willpower, Arthur managed to choke out his final words, feeling a twinge of regret when he saw Merlin’s blank, disbelieving expression. He thought of every moment he had ever shared with Merlin. Every memory. Every image was now bathed in gold. Merlin’s smile whenever he was making some snide remark. His deep set determination whenever he was giving Arthur a much needed pep talk. 

Arthur shifted, trying to fit his feelings into a sentence. He tried to use his language to describe just how grateful he was. But in the end, he had to settle for the simple way of putting it. 

“…Thank you.” 

Merlin cradled Arthur in his arms, holding onto his broken body as if he never planned to let go. In return, Arthur summoned his strength and placed his hand on the back of Merlin’s head, his gloved fingers trying to tangle themselves in Merlin’s dark hair. It didn’t last long, though, and Arthur could feel his hand slipping, and his arm falling back to his side. 

Merlin was screaming Arthur’s name now. He grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him, until Arthur was forced to open his eyes. A small smile lit up Merlin’s face, and he murmured a quiet, “Stay with me,” before Arthur closed his eyes again. Merlin was shouting and sobbing, and Arthur thought it would never stop. His consciousness slipped away just as Merlin roared up at the sky in a language Arthur didn’t understand, shifting positions so he could touch his forehead to his king’s. 

Arthur liked the warmth Merlin radiated. It had always been a comfort, in all the years he had known his servant. His heart fluttered when he felt Merlin’s breath on his nose. 

At least he could die smiling. 

In the end that’s all that mattered. 

:::

_Arthur didn’t know what he expected the afterlife to be like. After seeing his father’s ghost, he knew there was one. But he always envisioned it to be that empty screen of blue and white nothingness, the place he had seen when he used The Horn of Cathbhadh to summon Uther’s spirit._

_He had never expected it to look exactly like the world of the living._

_“Arthur.”_

_A familiar voice spoke from somewhere he couldn’t see, and Arthur opened his eyes, groaning. He saw the blue sky, and raised his hand drowsily, as if he meant to touch it. With a start, Arthur saw that his skin emitted a faint blue glow. Somehow, he knew instantly that he had died._

_He sat up, and everything came rushing back. Merlin’s magic. Mordred. His wound. He quickly looked down, realizing that there wasn’t a single trace of blood on his chain mail. He knew he should have been in pain. Instead, he felt curiously strong, refreshed, even._

_Finally, he looked around, and did a double take. Almost nothing around him had changed. He was sitting in a field of cropped grass, framed in trees, in the exact place where he had let go of Merlin. The only difference was that Merlin was now gone._

_Standing in his place, smiling sweetly down at him, was his mother, Igraine. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a beautiful twist, her blue eyes sparkled with love, and her skin glowed in the same way that his did._

_Arthur scrambled to his feet, rubbing his eyes. “Mother?”_

_Igraine nodded, and Arthur wrapped her in a tight embrace. She hugged him back, cradling his head in her hands. “I’m so sorry Arthur.”_

_Arthur frowned, his face still buried in his mother’s neck. “What do you mean?”_

_“You deserved to live for much longer. If I could have saved you, I would have.”_

_Arthur pulled away, giving his mother a small smile. “If it means I get to see you again, I no longer care that I’m dead.”_

_Igraine smiled, but it still looked sad. Suddenly, the memory of Morgause’s mirage broke its way into Arthur’s thoughts, and his smile faltered. “You— you’re real, right?”_

_“Yes Arthur.” Igraine touched his cheek lovingly, then retracted her hand. “I’m real.”_

:::

_The afterlife was a strange place. Igraine took the liberty of explaining the dynamics of the spirit world as she sat with her son in the middle of the open feild._

_The afterlife was a mirror image of the waking world. The landscapes were the exact same, but there was nothing that had been man made, because it had not been created in their world. With a sinking heart, Arthur realized that this meant he would never walk though Camelot’s castle and villages again._

_Everyone that had ever died populated the afterlife, but the magic that bound the spirit world made it impossible to become cramped or over flowed. Arthur was excited to see all of his lost friends, but he also wanted to understand every aspect of his new universe, so he sat patiently as his mother rambled on._

_Unfortunately, his enemies lived in the same world, but thankfully, they couldn’t hurt anyone. Arthur was relieved that they could do nothing but hold a grudge, especially Morgana and Mordred._

_Igraine also explained that they could manipulate everything around them. She demonstrated by grabbing his hand, then closing her eyes and concentrating. Suddenly the whole sky flickered, until they sat in the middle of the Valley of the Fallen Kings._

_It looked different without the statues, but Arthur could still recognize it._

_He looked around in absolute astonishment, and his mother simply smiled. “Because time is irrelevant here, it’s pointless for us to go on a journey that would take up days. So instead we can shift where we want to be, and we’ll instantly be there.”_

_Arthur definitely wanted to try it, so, still holding his mothers hand, he closed his eyes, and envisioned the gates of Camelot, expecting to just appear on a flat stretch of land with nothing there. But when he opened his eyes, he was surrounded in the busy streets of his kingdom, staring up at his home. He glanced around, and met his mothers eyes, which were focused on him, and were brimming with tears. “I… I thought…”_

_“This is how I watched over you, Arthur. We can chose what we see, until it shows us the land of the living.”_

_Arthur realized suddenly that no one else was glowing. These were living people. A little boy skipped right into him, but instead of stopping short, he passed straight through Arthur’s stomach, oblivious._

_Arthur took off running, forgetting that he could just blink his eyes and travel across the whole of Albion._

_He barely noticed Igraine following behind, a knowing smile spreading across her face._

_He raced up the steps, through corridors, into empty chambers. Finally, he ran straight through Sir Leon, and Arthur jumped, then spun around and moved to his knight’s side. Arthur had never seen Leon look so sad. He was mid conversation with another knight. “_ —feels strange. With Arthur gone. _”_

_Arthur knew it was foolish, but tears sprung into his eyes, almost as if he was mourning himself._

_Instead, he was mourning those that still lived. An empty hole awoke inside him, and he reached out to touch Leon’s shoulder, before remembering. Igraine watched her son with sympathy, as the real issue with being dead began to dawn on him. He stopped walking, letting Leon disappear down the hall._

_After that, he decided to torture himself further, and envisioned Guinevere. When he opened his eyes, his Queen stood in their chambers, staring at the bed and fidgeting with her marriage ring. She looked beautiful and regal in her silk dress and jeweled crown. But she also looked positively miserable._

_All of a sudden the door swung open, and without even thinking, Arthur knew it was Merlin. No one else would dare enter the queen’s chambers without knocking. Arthur turned to find that he was right._

_His heart shattered when he looked at Merlin’s face._

_It had always been so bright with childish excitement, his smile lighting up the whole room, his eyes looking so stunningly happy that it quickly made any one else present return the grin. But now, it looked as if Merlin had decided to never smile again. His face was dry, no longer streaked with tears, but his chin was dipped, his once beautiful eyes sunken in, and focused on the floor. Gwen turned. “_ Merlin. What is it? _”_

_Merlin looked up, his expression so deeply etched in pain that Arthur almost had to look away. His chest constricted, and he wanted nothing more than to be seen. “How is he here already?” Arthur asked his mother, who was watching Gwen with an unreadable expression. “I’ve only been dead for minutes, surely?”_

_Igraine shook her head. “Like i said, time is irrelevant here. Its an abstract concept when you're meant to stay somewhere for eternity. It’s been nearly a week for them.”_

_Arthur blanched. A week? It had seriously been that long?_

_His thoughts were interrupted when Merlin spoke. His voice was so quiet that Arthur had to strain to hear it._ “I… do you…” _he cleared his throat and started again. “_ Are you sleeping well, your majesty?”

 _Gwen smiled sadly._ “Not in the slightest.”

 _Merlin nodded._ “I’m not either. Would you mind if I stayed here for a bit? I need someone to talk to, and I’m afraid Gaius falls asleep all too soon.” 

_Gwen sat down and patted her bed._ “Be my guest.” 

_As Merlin moved forward, Arthur reached out and touched the tips of his fingers to his friend’s cheek, unable to stop himself. He fully expected Merlin to walk away, unaware, but to his surprise, Merlin stiffened, and looked directly at him. Arthur grinned in absolute shock and relief, but soon realized that Merlin was looking_ through _him. He knew someone was there. But he couldn’t see Arthur._

“Merlin?” _Gwen asked, apparently unable to sense him, as Merlin could._

 _Merlin reached up and touched the same cheek Arthur had, almost in a trance, as he continued to look at him. “_ …yes? _”_

_Suddenly the world began to fade, and Arthur made a wild grab for Merlin, before he plummeted onto flat ground that stretched as far as the eye could see. His mother was still next to him, but Camelot was gone. “Where are they?!” Arthur panicked, looking back and fourth._

_Igraine looked sad. “You can only see their world for a short while. Once someone notices your presence, you’re taken back to this.” She waved at the open field._

_Arthur tore a hand through his hair in desperation. “When while I be able to see them again?”_

_“It’s unclear how long it takes, but it usually feels like an hour. To them it will have been about a month.” Arthur growled in frustration, wanting to kick something. Igraine placed a hand on his shoulder, turning him to face her. “I know it’s hard. But time helps. You get used to it.” Arthur looked away, not believing her. He would never get used to that feeling. The emptiness after realizing no one noticed him. The heartbreak of seeing the effect of his death on the people he loved._

_“I think I’ve told you everything.” Igraine put her arm around her son’s shoulders, supporting him when he nearly collapsed with grief. “Are you ready to go see the others?”_

_By ‘others’ she meant every single person Arthur had ever lost to death._

_Gwaine ran up to him first, his once cheerful grin gone. “Please tell me you’re not actually dead, princess.”_

_Arthur poked an experimental finger into his knight’s chest. “Oh god. Gwaine, what on Earth?”_

_A mournful look crossed his face. “Oh, god, I'm so sorry. I failed... I endangered Percival, and gave up your location, and all for nothing, she wasn't even-”_

_"Gwaine, slow down." Arthur interrupted. "What happened? Why are you here?"_

_After collecting himself, Gwaine told Arthur about the traitor in Camelot, about the note she sent to Morgana, making her search in the opposite direction that Arthur was headed. About how angry Percival and Gwaine were, and how they decided to ride off and ambush her. "We should have known that she would overpower us. I thought I would die before I gave up your location, but she used this magic snake thing and..." He broke off, but he didn't need to continue. Arthur got the point._

_Morgana had tortured Gwaine to death._

_“You didn’t fail me.” Arthur said sharply, forcing his knight to look up at him. “Morgana was killed before she could hurt me, and she didn’t want to anyway. She wanted me to die by_ Mordred’s _hands. Not her own.”_

_After that came Lancelot, Elyan and Arthur’s father. Arthur felt a strange mix of emotions towards Lancelot, until he explained about Gwen’s enchantment and how he had been a shade. Then Arthur simply pulled his three friends into a brief hug. If he had to be stuck in this world for eternity, at least he had company._

_Arthur didn’t know what to make of his father. Uther Pendragon stood off to the side, looking at Lancelot and Elyan with disdain, while Igraine pretended he wasn’t even there. Arthur couldn’t help but smirk to see that his mother was also angry with her husband._

_“Arthur.” Uther’s eyes were cold and unpredictable, no doubt he was remembering the time that Arthur released his spirit._

_Arthur raised his chin, mirroring the expression. “Father.”_

_The first thing Uther did was tell Arthur about Merlin’s magic. The knights behind him erupted into shouts of denial, and Arthur flinched, having been unaware that Uther had found out. He quickly regained his composure, however, and looked Uther straight in the eyes._

_“Father, I find it entirely disappointing that you are able to ignore the years Merlin spent saving both of our lives, simply because he was born with a power older than you or I.”_

_Behind him, next to a distraught and confused Elyan and Gwaine, Lancelot blinked in surprise. “You knew, sire?”_

_Arthur turned back, and grinned. “So, it seems, did you.”_

_Lancelot smiled back. “Well. We certainly have a lot to talk about.”_

_“Damn right we do!” Gwaine exclaimed, giving Lance an accusing glare. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”_

_“It wasn’t my secret to tell.” Was all Lancelot responded with._

:::

_Eternity was passing by very quickly, and soon Arthur found himself as an unannounced guest at Guinevere and Leon’s wedding. Even though his heart ached, who couldn't help but smile to see his lifelong friend and loyal knight sitting on his throne and wearing his crown._

_Arthur watched over Merlin the most, hating himself for wanting Merlin to pass on. It would be terrible, but it was driving him mad not being able to communicate with his best friend._

_Arthur spent a long time arguing with his father about Merlin’s magic. Uther’s rage made no sense to him. Merlin had been nothing but kind, and had shown no signs of ill intent toward the royal family. How could Uther discard all that just because his eyes flashed gold?_

_Because of that, and of course, the tiny detail about him trying to kill Arthur when his spirit had been released, Arthur cut ties with his father, and spent most of his time traveling the forests of the world with his friends. He never ran into Mordred or Morgana, but despite everything, he hoped they were happy with the people they had lost as well._

_Once, when he was reminiscing with Gwaine about missing the taste of Ale, a horn blew in the distance. “What was that?” Arthur asked, having never heard a sound like it before._

_“What was what?” Gwaine replied, poking a stick into the campfire._

_Arthur found that whenever something new happened, the magic now flowing through his spirit told him instantly what was going on. So after a few moments, everything clicked. His heart rate sped up, and he leaped to his feet. Gwaine gave him a concerned look. “Arthur?”_

_But by then he had started to fade. The whole world glowed a brilliant white, then sank into a familiar blue. Arthur took a step forward, unsure of himself. A figure stood in front of him, and it took Arthur’s eyes a while to adjust. Finally, he saw Merlin, looking older, with longer hair and a thin beard, tears already shining in his eyes as he clutched The Horn of Cathbhadh._

“I didn’t think that would work.”

(•)

Merlin knew it was a stupid thing to say as soon as he said it. He should have started with, “Hello, prat.” Or even, “I’ve missed you.” Instead, he was so surprised he had been able to summon Arthur, that his entire mind went blank. 

He had found The Horn of Cathbhadh in the vaults beneath Camelot. It had been nearly ten years since Arthur’s death, and yet memories instantly flooded into his head. He recognized the beautiful instrument, and without even thinking, had shoved it into his bag. Gwen and Leon had only permitted him to go down in search of a book, but it wasn’t the first time he’d disobeyed them.

The ban on magic had been lifted, but the items in the vault were still locked up, and would stay that way unless a trusted ally asked to borrow one. 

With Gaius passed on, no one but Gwen could read him well enough to know when something was wrong. So he did his best to avoid her until Beltane, so that there was no one to stop him from making the long journey to the Stones of Nemeton. 

When he had gotten there, he wondered who he should summon. He had lost so many people. The priestesses of the Old Religion had only used it to summon ancestors, but when looking into it, Merlin learned that it could work with any spirit. 

Lancelot, Will, Freya, Gaius, his father, even. 

But it was almost too easy to make up his mind. 

His head had been filled with nothing but Arthur’s beautiful eyes as he blew into the horn. 

And now, here he was, looking at his king. His destiny. And all he could manage to say was, “I didn’t think that would work.”

Dear lord, had he missed Arthur’s laugh. His best friend threw his arms around him, and Merlin couldn’t stop the few rebellious tears that escaped down his face.

It was unlike Arthur to give out hugs, so Merlin soaked up the moment, wrapping his arms around his King’s waist and marveling in the fact that Arthur felt like a living person again. He was warm to the touch, and Merlin could feel his heartbeat inside his chest. The only unnatural thing about him was the blue glow of his skin. 

Arthur very nearly strangled the life out of him, the largest grin Merlin had ever seen plastered on his face. “Good god, Merlin. You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

Merlin tilted his head, a teasing smirk lighting up his expression. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this affectionate, sire.” 

Arthur scowled briefly, but his smile refused to die, and eventually it popped back up again. “Yes well, you deserve it.”

They talked for as long as they could, before Merlin had to leave. Merlin told him everything that he didn’t have time say before Arthur died. He explained how Arthur was born of magic. And Merlin’s years hiding his magic in Ealdor. He tried to tell him about Mordred, how he knew the young Druid was destined to kill Arthur, and what he did to Morgana, but he started to get choked up, so Arthur told him that it was fine, and that he didn’t have to explain. 

Merlin also told Arthur about Kilgarrah’s words. About how one day Arthur would return. Incidentally, that also revealed that he was a Dragon Lord. Arthur’s reaction was that of amazement this time, instead of anger. “So all of those times you ran off to fight a dragon…?” 

“Yup.” Merlin answered, quite proud of himself. 

They discussed how everyone was doing in the afterlife. Merlin anxiously told Arthur about Freya, and Arthur promised to look for her when he got back. 

“Who says you’re going back?” Merlin asked, grinning. “I could always release you into my world, and you would be powerless to stop me.” 

Arthur allowed himself to look hopeful, wistful, even, but something changed his mind. “You can’t Merlin. I… I can’t.”

Merlin took a step forward, confused. “Why not?” 

The king shook his head, now angry, but not at Merlin. “I… I think…” he released an exasperated snarl and rubbed his hands down his face. Merlin watched with concern. “You once explained how you could sense if a place was sacred, or cursed, right?” Merlin nodded. “Well it’s like that. Being a spirit… I know things. Like how I knew what was happening the moment you blew the horn. If you release me, I won’t be able to be reborn. Something about my ghost being in the living world will block my ability to become living again.”

Merlin frowned. “Do you know when you’re going to be reborn? I could release you and then send you back here in time.”

Again Arthur shook his head. “No, I don’t.” He looked genuinely sad as he said, “I’m sorry Merlin. But you can’t look back.”

Finally they couldn’t wait any longer. If Merlin didn’t leave in that moment, he wouldn’t be able to leave at all. He knew what he had to do, but he didn’t want to. He gave Arthur one last, desperate hug, before he turned to leave.

It was hard, but Merlin managed to do it without looking back. He knew better than to mess with something that he didn’t understand. It hurt an unbelievable amount, walking away. He wanted nothing more than to turn around, or stay until he was trapped with Arthur for eternity. 

Instead, he simply stopped walking as the sky began to glow. “Arthur?” 

“Yes?”

So Arthur was still there. Good. Merlin took a deep breath, but did not turn to face his friend. 

“See you next year.” 

Then he blinked, and he was back at the Stones of Nemeton, standing under a cloudless sky.

Alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked the chapter, I will be posting again next Friday. Have an amazing week :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin goes to the Stones of Nemeton after a long year without his Royal Prat. >:3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I changed the number of years that Merlin has been waiting from 2000+ to 1500+ because the battle of Camlann was 537 AD (or CE) and after doing some research about BCE and CE cause I'm stupid, that was 1500 years ago, not 2000. I could have just changed the story time line to the 25th century or something but I'd rather keep it in my time line so :P
> 
> Just warning you, there might be typos that I skip over where it says hes been waiting for 2000 years, just let me know in the comments if that happens and I'll fix it :)
> 
> Anyway, now that I cleared that up, I hope you like this chapter, thank you for reading <3

Present Day,  
May 1st - Beltane  
21st Century

  
_Dearest Arthur,_

_I ran into another person with your name._

_I thought it would stop hurting, after meeting so many different people carrying your legacy. But just your name is like a hunting spear to my heart. I’m going mad, being so alone._

_There are others, of course. Gabby, Martha, Kai, Oliver. My god-awful therapist. I’m not living in complete solitude, but I’m lonely all the same. I’ve said it plenty of times already, but I need to say it again._

_I miss you.  
_

_Signed, Merlin_

  
Merlin set down his pen, passing a hand through his hair, yawning. An empty coffee cup sat on the table next to him, and he glanced at it with distaste before standing up to stretch, a blanket falling to his feet. 

Aithusa was snoring in the other room, and Merlin tried to be quiet so as not to wake him. Moving over to his desk, he pulled a drawer open. Inside the drawer there was a small rectangular safe, with a key hole in the center. Merlin had made sure that no key was made that could unlock it. Instead, he used something much more effective. 

Merlin’s hand hovered above the lock as he spoke the command word. **“Datgloi”**

Something in the safe’s mechanisms clicked, and Merlin opened the small door. Inside sat a beautiful horn, thin metal wrapped around the ends, with carvings that Merlin had long since translated. The color reminded him of a calico cat.

The Horn of Cathbhadh. 

Merlin had stayed true to his word, and had visited Arthur the year after he had first summoned him. And the year after that. And the year after that. Until finally it was one thousand years later, and Merlin hadn’t missed a single Beltane. 

The letter he had written didn’t serve any purpose, but Merlin liked doing it, just as he liked reading his old book of magic. Merlin figured that most would write ‘dear diary,’ before every entry in the small leather-bound journal, but everything Merlin wrote was everything he wanted to say to Arthur, so he replaced ‘diary’ with his name. The entries were small things, simple thoughts or emotions that Merlin had at random moments. He never told Arthur what he wrote, because he saw that as a waste of the limited time that he had with his king.

And if he did tell Arthur all he had written, Arthur would probably make fun of him, calling him a girl, before Merlin would remind him that times had changed, and that wasn’t a sound insult anymore. 

Merlin smiled when he looked at the clock. Two minutes past seven in the morning. 

It had been a long year. 

Then again, it always was. 

Arthur would most likely be able to tell that he hadn’t gotten any sleep, and there was no doubt he would scold him for it, but Merlin didn’t care. Nightmares were not going to ruin his mood on the one day he could be genuinely happy.

Merlin strapped a bag over his shoulder and shoved the horn inside. He looked in front of the mirror, and frowned. He was still a frail old man. He never liked talking to Arthur in that form. His eyes flashed gold and he murmured a quick spell, watching as his appearance slowly morphed into that of a young man’s. 

Merlin stood in front of the mirror for a few minutes, marveling at his new brown hair and his wrinkle free skin. Then he turned on his heel and moved to open the door to his garage. Aithusa looked up at the sound of the door creaking on its hinges, still drowsy from sleep. He growled, until he realized the person at the door was Merlin, not an intruder. 

Merlin smiled, patting his dragon’s head. “It’s ok, boy. It’s Beltane. I’ll be back before the day is out.” 

Taking joy in how his bones were no longer aching from age, he bounced all the way to his car, tripping over a can of paint and a pile of clothes on his way, but not caring in the slightest. The drive to Cornwall, where the Stones of Nemeton could be found, took about two and a half hours. This was the only reason he used his car, instead of walking, like he did for nearly everything else. Merlin wasn’t a bad driver, but he wasn’t a good driver either. He found the scraps of metal way too fragile and hard to control, needing all of his concentration just to make sure he didn’t run himself off the road. 

He stretched out his hand, his eyes shimmering. Every single speck of dust lifted off of the car, swirling into a cloud and solidifying enough to drop into a trash bag, leaving his vehicle sparkling clean. 

Merlin climbed into the drivers seat, starting the engine. He pressed a button that opened the garage door, and shifted the dials on his radio, lowering the volume. He put his bag in the passenger seat, plugging in his phone just in case he needed his GPS. He never did, but he liked to be prepared. 

With a growing sense of excitement, he pulled out of the driveway, humming softly to an old 80’s song on the radio.

***

  
(•)

_Years passed by with nothing to mark the days, and Merlin wasn’t the only one to watch the world crumble._

_Arthur stayed in the land of the dead, but every chance he got, he would visit the land of the living. Sometimes his friends would stand with him when he checked up on the people he loved. Sometimes he would stand by them while they did the same thing._

_He watched Camelot fall, found old friends after they died, saw magic fade from the world, forgotten and reduced to myth._

_He was well aware of his legacy now. The legend of King Arthur. The Sword in the Stone, The Knights of the Round Table, The Holy Grail. He found some of the stories a bit ridiculous, but he had to admit that most of them were loosely based on the truth. Well, except for the one about Merlin being the anti-Christ. Arthur was always teasing his manservant about that.  
_

_The one thing he always hated seeing was Merlin loosing someone._

_Arthur had never appreciated the level of Merlin’s grief before. He had always been grieving himself, or blissfully unaware of the death that had taken place._

_Now, watching his old friend, he met beautiful people and kind strangers. Loyal friends and strong allies._

_And all of them died in the end._

_Every. Single. One._

_None of them could keep up with Merlin, who simply kept living._

_The King and his Servant stood in opposite worlds, watching empires rise and fall. Lands burn and oceans rise. Connected, but so inexplicably far apart._

_Two sides of the same coin._

_It was unbelievably depressing, and Arthur often wondered how Merlin could keep his sanity._

_He never spoke of these things to Merlin, however, who summoned him every year at Beltane without fail._

_Beltane had become a time to forget loss and heartache. To feel nothing but love, hope and joy. They never spoke about anything meaningful. Nothing about being reborn, or the issues of the world. A war could be raging and Merlin and Arthur would be laughing about Gwaine’s drunken adventures, or the time when Arthur had the ears of a donkey._

_It was some sort of unspoken agreement, and Arthur preferred it that way. He enjoyed Merlin’s smile much more than Merlin’s tears._

_Thanks to Merlin’s level of power, he was able to command the horn to be used more than once per Beltane, though sadly not for the same spirit. Everyone was cross with Merlin for not speaking with them sooner, but in his defense, he had only mastered the horn a couple hundred years after Camelot fell. Gwaine pouted every year before that, desperate for the first friend he had ever made. Gaius put up a better act, saying he knew what Arthur meant to Merlin, and that it didn’t surprise him that Arthur was the one always being summoned, but everyone could tell the old man missed Merlin a great deal._

_But after he figured out how to summon as many as he wanted, he began talking to them in turn. Arthur would snap back into his world and Gwaine would immediately spring to his feet, shouting, “I’m next! My turn!”_

_It was remarkably similar to the dynamics of when everyone was still alive. Everyone Arthur ran into was clambering for Merlin’s attention at Beltane. Lancelot would tackle Elyan, Gwen would poke and prod Arthur for details about their conversation, and Leon would panic. It was overall chaos. The man was quite popular in both the afterlife and the real world, it would seem._

_The only person who couldn’t be summoned was a girl named Freya. Not too long after first hearing her name, Arthur went in search of the Druid girl, finding her by the shores of the lake where she had died._

_As soon as he found her, he introduced himself, hoping to every god and goddess he knew that she wouldn’t claw his eyes out, for being such a daft friend to the man she loved._

_Luckily, they had gotten along well, though Arthur did feel guilty about dealing the blow that had eventually killed her._

_As it turned out, Freya had a special job in the spirit world, as rare as it was. Because of her promise to repay Merlin, she died unfulfilled. Thanks to those last words, Freya was granted the ability to have a semi-solid form midst the Lake of Avalon. She became known as the Lady of the Lake, guarding over Arthur’s sword, Excalibur, for the rest of time. Freya was more than happy to do it of course, but Arthur could tell that she was lonely. Because of the curse she had whilst still alive, not many had ever gotten close to her, so her only visitors were her family, and Arthur. Not to mention the fact that being unable to leave her post meant that the Horn of Cathbhadh did not have the power to summon her spirit._

_Arthur would sit with her by the lake, telling stories about everything he and Merlin had ever done together, and she would listen, and laugh, and sometimes she would even cry._

_It wasn’t an unusual thing to see Freya and Arthur at the shore of the lake, talking or scrying._

_Because Freya couldn’t leave the water’s edge, she couldn’t shape her world the way Arthur and the others could, instead settling for creating a vision on the surface of the lake. Arthur would watch over her shoulder as the picture zoomed into Merlin, lying awake in the middle of the night, hair almost down to his shoulders, as if he never bothered to cut it._

_One time, they caught him with a feather and ink, sketching a crude recreation of Arthur’s face. Merlin had stared at it for a second before growling and crumpling up the paper, tossing it to the corner of the room._

_“He loves you a great deal.” Freya had said quietly, hovering her hand over the image as if she wanted to touch Merlin’s cheek._

_Arthur didn’t know what to say for a moment, still caught up in the sight of Merlin looking so frail, as if he had neither slept nor eaten in days. Eventually he tore his gaze away from the water, giving Freya as big a smile as he could muster. “As he does you.”_

_He didn’t get a reply._

***

  
(•)

The drive to The Great Stones of Nemeton should have been painfully boring, but Merlin found that the thought of summoning Arthur more than made up for the ache from sitting for two straight hours, or the insistent repeat of hip hop songs on the radio.

It was a horrible drive, really, but he loved it all the same. Nothing was capable of ruining the mood he was in. 

He would have turned the radio off, but he never liked to be left alone with his thoughts. It tended to get… messy. 

He stopped at one or two fast food restaurants, humming happily as he ordered through the window. To anyone who knew him, it wouldn’t come as a surprise to know that most of what he ordered was ice cream and milkshakes, with an excessive number of fries drowned in salt. He ate it all in record timing, his appetite having finally come back for the first time in nearly a year. 

As he drove, he made a plan of who to summon and in what order. He desperately wished he could summon Freya, but Arthur had told him about the restrictions the afterlife put on her. 

He would summon Arthur first, of course. Then Gaius, the knights, Gwen, Will, and his parents. He had been wanting to try something for a while, and needed to talk to Gaius about it. He never did stop needing his old mentor. 

His goal was to figure out if he could summon multiple spirits at once. Knowing what he had already accomplished with the horn, he couldn’t see why it wouldn’t be possible. If he could summon multiple people at the same time, he could have what he’d wanted for so many years. To be with all of his friends in the same place, acting like nothing had changed, and that they were still living in the golden days, when all of them were still alive, a friend group so tightly knit that even death couldn’t keep them apart for long. 

Sadly, most magical books had been lost or destroyed, and he needed to see if Gaius knew whether or not what he wanted to do was possible. Of course, even if Gaius said it wasn’t, Merlin would still try. He genuinely did want Gaius’s opinion, but he rarely wanted to agree with him. 

Thanks to the horrible curse known as Weekend Traffic, the drive took significantly longer than Merlin had anticipated. He shoved his last french fry in his mouth and honked his horn as he passed someone looking down at their phone. The last thing he needed was a car crash. They cast him a nasty glare and he smiled and waved in return. Fortunately they put their phone down after that, so Merlin didn’t have to trouble himself further. Sometimes with particularly risky situations, he had to shut the phone down with magic, forcing the screen to go completely blank in an instant. He found it difficult to preform such a trick with electronics. He usually only dealt with nature, elements, and telekinesis, with some rituals thrown in for good measure. His magic wasn’t used to modern day cell phones or cars, so it took a while to get inside the motherboard or engine and control things without making the whole thing blow up. 

He continued on his way, speeding past the ignorant idiot, and putting some distance between them just in case. 

The euphoria he felt upon arriving at The Great Stones remained unrivaled. He had strayed off the road and drove on for almost 10 minutes before stopping at the base of a downhill slope. The top was all rocks and pebbles, hell to walk on with bare feet, but the hill itself was nothing but soft dew-covered grass. He parked his car on the path, and grabbed the satchel that held The Horn of Cathbhadh. It grew warm against his side, the shape of it hitting his hip as he walked, a consistent reminder of its presence. 

By now it was around 10:30, and Merlin was bursting with impatience. 

He slipped halfway down the hill, landing on his rear end and sliding the rest of the way, no doubt getting a stain on his jeans in the process. For a second, he lay at the bottom, slightly dazed. Then he broke into laughter, standing up and brushing himself off, muttering, “I haven’t changed in a thousand years, it would seem.”

He straightened, glancing up at the ring of stones that towered over him by a good couple of feet. One of his favorite places in all the world. He remembered the first time he had set foot there like it had been yesterday. He had felt the magic reverberating from each smooth rock face, and he’d had to squint from the force of it all. He had taken a small step forward, warning Arthur against using the horn, but it had been futile. 

Oh, how times had changed.

He stepped up to the archway, placing a hand on it, sensing the magic, however weak it had become. The modern world had washed it of its power, drained it of its connection to the afterlife, but that would never stop Merlin. The Horn of Cathbhadh acted like a plug. The Stones had long since been unable to keep up with the horn’s power, so Merlin effectively became the new outlet. Nemeton was still the best place to preform the ritual, of course. It held so much ancient history and magic, that no other place would work better. It just needed a little life support, that’s all. 

Merlin closed his eyes, and felt his magic flow out of him, an infinite supply of power being donated generously to the ancient site. He wobbled a little, but he knew that he wasn’t actually losing magic. As old as the land itself, Merlin absorbed power from the Earth he walked on, and the Sky he stood under. He could afford to recharge places that needed it, without it having a major impact on him. 

His eyes opened slowly, and he sucked in a deep breath. Taking his hand off the stone, he reached into his bag and pulled out The Horn. The polish made it unnaturally bright in the morning sun, and Merlin ran his fingers along it, drawn in by the raw power of the magical instrument. 

Lifting it to his lips, he blew through it, holding out the note as long as he could before he had to take a breath. The sound it created was beautiful, but maybe that was just because Merlin had associated it with his long lost friends. 

He waited for a moment, but nothing happened. 

He frowned, closing his eyes and imagining Arthur’s face again. His blonde hair, crooked smile, and pointed teeth. He blew the horn for a second time. 

A Raven cawed, flying up from where it had sat farther away in the meadow, disturbed by the sound. But there was no white flash, and no King of Camelot.

 _Come on, Arthur._ Merlin thought, biting his lip and trying not to panic. 

Nothing happened. With a jolt, Merlin realized what this meant. 

If Arthur’s spirit could not be summoned, then that meant he wasn’t available. And if he wasn’t available, that meant he no longer existed in the afterlife. So either Merlin had unknowingly released him the year before, or…

The ground shifted under Merlin’s feet as the revelation hit him, and he sat down hard, blinking in disbelief. 

_Arthur was back._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun DUuuuNNNN~ 
> 
> Before I sign off for the week, I have a quick question. Because I have no life whatsoever, I created an OC based off myself, that is centered in the BBC Merlin Universe. Because I can't leave him out of anything, my brother got a character too. And because I can't create something without writing about it, I began making a story about Camelot from my characters POV. It kinda serves as a Fix It AU, but instead of just changing some details, I inserted my own characters to fix the outcome of the story. For instance, Morgana never turns evil, Arthur, Lancelot, Gwaine, and Elyan don't die, my brother has a crush on Leon, Merthur becomes canon, and I claim Morgana because she's pretty and therefore mine :3
> 
> What I'm trying to say is, would anyone be interested in reading it if I posted it on Ao3, or should I just keep it in the dark corners of Microsoft Word for it to never be discovered?
> 
> Again, thank you for reading, I hope y'all have an amazing weekend, I'll be back to haunt you next Friday ;)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> three cheers for me being able to get two of my friends into the Merlin fandom. I need more people to understand what I'm saying when I start ranting. My parents just laugh at me >~<
> 
> Hopefully you guys like the chapter :)

Present day, May 1st 21st century

“Hey Arthur! Come on you arse, it’s nearly ten in the morning!”

Someone was pounding on the front door of Arthur’s flat, and from the sound of the voice, Arthur thought it was most likely Griffin. Which would turn out to be interesting, because Griffin was by far the most impatient of his friends, and always got the most frustrated when ignored. 

Arthur curled up tighter under his blankets, his room blissfully dark, despite it being well into the day. 

Unfortunately, he couldn’t enjoy his privacy for long, because there came a crashing sound from the living room, and his bedroom door flung open, making Arthur scream like a young child. 

Once he realized it was only Griffin, however, he was much more angry than scared. “What on Earth— how the hell did you get in here?”

Griffin was a well built young man. Shorter than everyone else in their pitiful little group, but only by a few inches. He had curly brown hair that he kept trimmed around his shoulders. Most of the time he was lighthearted and humorous, but today he was more irritated than anything. He held up a small metal trinket for Arthur to see, then stuffed it back in his pocket. “I stole your key. Got a problem with that, princess?” 

Arthur glared for a second or two, before he shifted over and pulled the covers over his head, trying to forget Griffin was in the room. 

“Oh no you don’t. Kendrix and Axel are being obnoxious again and are trying to drag me off to another ancient site, and if I have to go, you’re going to suffer with me.” He grabbed at Arthur’s arms, still hidden under the blankets, managing to get Arthur untangled from the bed and drag him to the floor. 

The room shifted almost instantly. 

Arthur was starting to recognize when he was having a vision, because he had them quite often. 

The light got brighter, and the setting changed. His bed was much more fancy, and he suddenly didn’t have a carpet. The walls weren’t covered in cheap wallpaper anymore, and a fireplace burned warmly in the corner. Arthur didn’t remember any of it, but it was still familiar. 

Griffin’s grip on Arthur didn’t go away, but somehow it felt different. He felt himself get pulled to his feet, and turned around. 

The boy was there again. 

Well, he was probably the same age as Arthur, so technically he was a man, but he had such young features that it was hard to tell. Arthur couldn’t place his name, but he was there every time Arthur had one of these flashes. They usually happened while he was dreaming, but sometimes something would happen and the world would change right in front of his eyes. 

And that man was always there. 

In that moment, he was grinning at Arthur, and his smile lit up the room better than any form of sunlight. He wore an outfit that would look rather hideous on anyone but him. A red neckerchief with a blue linen shirt and a brown jacket. 

His smile faded when he noticed Arthur was staring. “What are looking at me like that for?” 

But the voice was different than Arthur had heard in the other visions, and it slowly deepened until it sounded remarkably like Griffin.

The scene began to fade back to normal, and Arthur shook himself, trying to clear his head. He was back in his bedroom, with Griffin looking at him with concern. “You alright? You spaced out on me for a second there.” 

Slowly, Arthur found his footing again, and nodded. He hadn’t told anyone about the flashes, and he didn’t plan too, but he knew that his friends suspected something was wrong.

Six months ago, he had woken up in a hospital, not knowing anything but his name. His friends, Griffin Maille, Axel Fabre, Kendrix Ritter, and Kendrix’s girlfriend, Anna Polus, had supposedly been the ones who found him and brought him to the hospital, but they hadn’t known him before that, so they hadn’t been able to give him any details about himself. They had helped him get settled, paying rent for Arthur to live in their apartment complex, until he got a job so that he could pay rent himself. 

Arthur was living rather peacefully, but still. He had learned the hard way just how much amnesia sucked.

“Where are we going today?” Arthur asked, instead of answering Griffin's question. It was a frequent occurrence for Kendrix to drag his friends off to one historical site or another. He was a Docent at Wells and Mendip Museum, meaning he gave tours and made long speeches about random artifacts from various eras. He never quite left his job though, because on his time off, he liked to visit places with interesting pasts, or different museums and displays, bringing along everyone else, because he didn’t enjoy it when he went alone. 

Axel didn’t seem to mind, though he had said multiple times that he preferred mythology to history. Arthur was indifferent as well, but he would have liked to stay in bed for at least another hour. Griffin pretended that he hated it, but it must not have bothered him too much, because he never had the heart to decline a chance to hang out with everyone. 

“Not somewhere five hours away this time, thankfully. I think it’s called Vicar’s Close? It’s actually right here in Wells, so it shouldn’t be that long of a trip.”

“I thought I heard you talking about Glastonbury Abbey yesterday?”

Griffin paused, pursing his lips, but covered it up quickly with a smile. “We’d already been before. We were only going to go because Anna hadn’t, but she’s busy today. Something about her mother. So we decided to save that for later.”

Griffin was a _really_ bad liar.

But Arthur brushed it off, assuming that it had nothing to do with him, if he was still being invited on the trip. Where they were going didn’t really matter to him anyway.

“So Anna’s not going to be with us?”

Griffin looked grateful for the subject change, before he said, “Nope! Just us guys.” He winked, backing out of Arthur’s bedroom. “Now get dressed. We’re leaving in 20 minutes.” Arthur heard the door close, but it opened again a heartbeat later as Griffin added, “AND DON’T GO BACK TO SLEEP!” 

Arthur grinned, standing up and stretching. He moved over to his dresser, throwing on a shirt. He might not understand what had happened to him, or even who he was, but he did know one thing. He was extremely lucky to have friends to help him figure it out.

  
(•)

  
Axel Fabre glanced up at the sound of the front door opening. Griffin stood in the door, an annoyed expression on his face. “Seriously what is the point of all this?” 

Kendrix sat across from Axel, his feet resting on the coffee table. If this were Axel’s apartment, he would have told him to knock it off, but seeing as it was Kendrix’s living room, he was probably allowed to do whatever he wanted. Granted, Kendrix behaved with such politeness in other people’s households that he probably wouldn’t be caught dead with his feet on Axel’s table, anyway. 

“What do you mean?” He asked, placing his mug on the glass, not bothering to use the coasters. 

“All of this bloody lying!” Griffin exclaimed, pacing to the kitchen. “What’s the point? It’s a big legend, we can’t hide it from him forever.” He turned, managing a shrug. “Not like I wanted to go to Glastonbury Abbey anyway, but still. He knows something’s up, I’m sure of it.” 

“Really? He doesn’t seem all that keen to me.” Axel had nothing against Arthur. In fact, in the six months he had known him, they had become quite close. But Arthur seemed to gaze at the world through a filter. Only seeing what he wanted or expected to see.

Kendrix glared at Axel, ever so protective. “Arthur’s actually brilliant, I’ll have you know. He’s just very trusting. That doesn’t make him daft.”

Griffin nodded. “He’s not as oblivious as you think he is. The man can pick up a person’s mood from a mile away, and he’s relatively good at drawing a smile out of you. He’s an Empath, that one. May not be a philosopher, but he makes do.”

Axel was silent, slowly realizing that they were right. Before he could open his mouth, however, Kendrix spoke up. “In answer to your question, Griffin, it would be cruel to tell Arthur the truth before he settles into the life he has now.”

“And what truth would that be, eh?” Griffin grinned, a bit mockingly, Axel noticed. “That he’s the resurrection of a thousand year old king? That everyone in the whole country knows his name, because they studied him in school?”

“Yes!” Kendrix argued, standing up. “Remember how we found him? His first words upon waking up? After everything that has happened, how can you still doubt who he is?” 

“I don’t. It’s just hard to wrap my head around. And don’t you think he’s settled in enough? Six months seems like a good time to me. He’s got himself a job, a flat, and a group of friends.”

“So you want to tell him that according to an ancient story, him being alive most likely means that the world is going end, and he has to stop it, after he just got his life together?” Kendrix countered, leaning against the couch armrest. “It will devastate him. Besides, he doesn’t remember anything. Maybe the universe will pick the time he regains his memories. Maybe then will he truly become King Arthur. The timing might not be for us to decide. Until then, he’s just some poor bloke we found, who woke up with amnesia.”

  
***

  
It was a horrible day, really, when Axel, Anna, Kendrix and Griffin stumbled upon the man in chain mail. 

The weather was absolute hell, and the snow of December had collectively decided to turn into a brown and grey slushie. It had recently been raining, and it was early in the morning. Almost 5:15. But still, the little group put up with their nerdy friend’s adventures. Always the optimist, Kendrix had assured everyone that no one would be touring Glastonbury Tor, not only because of the time, but the weather as well. 

He spoke as he walked, and if it had been anyone else talking, the narrative would be incredibly boring. But the way Kendrix spoke of King Arthur and his final resting place, he captivated even Griffin, who was struggling up the hill with a massive winter jacket, but still listening intently. 

Glastonbury Tor was said to be The Lake of Avalon. Avalon was a small island in the center of the lake, with a great temple built on the crest. Over time, the lake had dried up and the tower had crumbled. Now there was nothing but a hill, with a replica of a medieval temple that would never be the same as it was. 

Glastonbury Tor, or The Lake of Avalon, was said to be the place that Arthur had died. Not too far away, was Glastonbury Abbey, where he was allegedly buried. 

Kendrix was one of the few people who didn’t believe that story. He thought that King Arthur had a funeral via burning boat, and therefore remained lost and untouched somewhere underneath what now could be called The Hill of Avalon. Kendrix decided that The Great Sword Excalibur was somewhere under the earth as well, buried with its King. 

He also spoke about how Arthur had died on something called a Ley Line, an invisible force running under the earth where magic was at its strongest. Axel didn’t quite understand why that part was so important, but it seemed to excite Kendrix.

They struggled up the hill while he talked, dragging their boots through disgusting snow and ripped up grass. Miserable but entranced by the story, Axel squinted up at the tower on top of the hill, trying to estimate how far he had to go. 

He saw a small form at the base of the structure, just a simple shadow against the dull winter sky. 

With alarm, Axel realized that it was a person. He alerted the others, and they called to whoever it was with no luck. Fearing they might be hurt, the group started moving faster. 

When they got to the top, they all stood in shock at what lay before them. Anna grabbed onto Kendrix’s arm, but he barely seemed to notice, gaping at the ground in awe. 

A stranger lay in front of them, pale as a ghost. He lay perfectly straight, his gloved hands resting peacefully over his stomach. He had beautiful blonde hair and chain mail fitted around his body. A red cape covered his shoulders, and he wore a simple pair of boots with brown trousers. 

Axel would have mistaken him for dead, had he not seen the mans chest rise and fall in slow, rhythmic breaths. 

No one knew quite what to make of him. Was he a cosplayer? Was he injured? Sleeping? Mentally ill? 

Axel elbowed Kendrix. “Looks like you’ve found your King Arthur.” 

He had meant it as a joke, but when he saw Kendrix’s expression as he gazed at the unconscious stranger, he could tell what his friend was thinking. 

Kendrix didn’t decide to voice his thoughts though, instead giving the floor to Anna. 

“Is he OK?” She had a slight grip on Kendrix’s jacket sleeve, biting her lip in concern. Axel and Griffin both liked her a lot. She was friendly, shy, and true hearted. Despite how much they teased Kendrix, they were happy for him. “Should we take him to the hospital?”

Griffin knelt down next to the man. “Let’s not be drastic. He could just be taking a nap.” 

“In the middle of December wearing nothing but metal and a cape? On a historical landmark?” Anna questioned, leveling Griffin with a disbelieving look. Turning her attention back to the guy she said, “Besides, I reckon he’s cold, just look at how pale he is.” 

“And how handsome.” Griffin muttered, getting to his feet. Axel shot him a look, but Griffin just shrugged. “Don’t tell me that you hadn’t noticed.”

It was true; the man was fairly attractive, if you ignored how deathly grey his skin was, but that didn’t mean Axel would ever admit it out loud.

“We should at least move him out of the weather. Try getting him into our car?” Anna was persistent as always, and finally the boys agreed. 

Completely forgetting that they had intended to stay and look around, the four of them lifted the man up and carried him down the hill. It was no simple task. The stranger was seriously heavy, and the snow made it difficult not to trip or fall over.

Surviving a few mishaps, they all piled safely in their car, which was luckily big enough to fit all of them. Kendrix hadn’t spoken a word, and Axel had to take over driving while him and Anna sat with the man in the backseat. Axel had turned the heater on, and Anna was routinely slapping the guy’s cheek, but he wouldn’t even twitch. 

Since they had him in the car, they didn’t have anywhere else to take him but the hospital. After a few quick searches on the van’s GPS, Axel found which place was closest to Glastonbury Tor, and drove as calmly as he could. 

Once there however, he didn’t know how to go about getting the man inside. What was the proper procedure for finding an unconscious stranger in mid evil attire in the middle of winter? Did he have to take off his cape and chain mail? Was he even wearing anything underneath? How did chain mail work? 

He panicked about what to do as he found a place to park, and eventually settled on running in by himself and asking a staff member what to do. 

The lady barely looked up as he told her that he had an unconscious bloke in his backseat, and she looked rather annoyed when he asked if someone could come outside and see to him. 

“Son, it’s blistering cold out there. Bring the man in like a normal person.”

Axel pursed his lips. “With all due respect ma’am that might be a problem.”

“I can send people out to get him if he’s too heavy.”

He shook his head, sighing through his teeth. “I fear that he’ll be a cause of distraction.” 

“The staff here are perfectly used to comatose patients, trust me, no one will be fazed. Now stop raising a fuss and—“

“Ma’am he’s dressed in full battle armor.”

The pair of them looked at each other for a short moment, both of them not only surprised at Axel’s blatant interruption, but also at what he had stated. He rubbed his arm awkwardly, shifting on his feet as the lady stared at him, dumbfounded. 

_“What did you just say?”_

After he had gotten someone’s attention, Axel found it quite easy finding someone to help. A young girl named Merri walked out with him, shooting questions as they went. 

“Where did you find him? What are his breathing patterns? What did you say he was wearing again? Like a normal army outfit or actual armor? Have you checked his heart rate? How old would you say he is?” 

Axel answered all her questions to the best of his ability, but with each comment, her frown seemed to deepen. She had fiery red hair pulled into a low bun, and the way she moved and spoke suggested that she’d dunk way too much coffee. 

When they got to his car, Axel opened the trunk, for the best view into the backseat. The stranger was still asleep, his head propped up in Kendrix’s lap, his cape having been taken off and folded neatly to the side. 

The sight was a big enough shock for anyone, but after a moments pause, Merri got right to work. She had a large hospital gown over her arm, and instructed everyone out of the car so she could get him out of his chain mail. The four of them didn’t argue, and walked a small ways off to talk. 

Kendrix watched nervously as Merri climbed into the back of the car and pulled the trunk closed, being decent enough not to show the whole parking lot the sight of the man getting redressed. “Who do you suppose he is?” 

Axel clasped his hands behind his back, giving Kendrix a curious look. “Why are you asking us? I suppose you have your theories already.”

Kendrix paused, then nodded. He glanced at Anna, who had always been the best out of the group when it came to indulging his ridiculous stories and historical rants. She didn’t give anything but a small nod, but that seemed to be enough. “The crest on his cape…” he started, wringing out his hands, “it’s the crest of the Pendragon Dynasty.”

Axel suspected as much, but Griffin took a moment to process this new information. He blinked, then reeled back, incredulous. “You’re not seriously suggesting that _that_ is King Arthur?” Kendrix didn’t reply, so Griffin turned to Axel. “He’s probably just a cosplayer, and that’s why he hasn’t got a sword.”

“Damn dedicated actor, he is then.” Axel cut in, not believing that he was taking Kendrix’s side. “What kind of mad man pretends to pass out in the freezing cold, and lets himself be taken to the hospital, all for the sake of role play? For all he knew we wouldn’t even be there!”

“Maybe he really did pass out.” Griffin defended, looking more and more unsure of himself. 

“That’s too many coincidences.” Anna said softly, looking over at Kendrix. “Isn’t it?”

In a tone just as quiet, Kendrix recited a line that every student had memorized by the time they reached eighth grade. “When Albion’s need is greatest, The Once and Future King will rise again.”

Griffin stared at the lot of them, taking a step back, but before he could say another word, the trunk of their car flew open, and Merri leaned out, brushing a rebellious strand of hair out of her face. “His.. erm.. armor is set next to his cloak. I’ve dressed him in a hospital gown, he should be safe to carry in without people staring. I’ve also run a few of my own tests on him.”

Kendrix stepped forward, understandably anxious. “And?”

Merri huffed out a breath as she laid both her feet back onto the pavement. “And… He’s in perfect health. Not a single thing is wrong with him. As far as I can tell, he’s just a little cold. Just… sleeping.”

  
:::

  
They managed to get the man into a hospital room without causing a scene, and 20 minutes later, Kendrix, Anna, Griffin, and Axel were all sitting in small plastic chairs, drinking coffee. It was maybe 6:30 in the morning, and none of them were happy that they had gotten up so early. Kendrix and Griffin had begun to avoid each others gazes. In fact, Griffin seemed to be avoiding everyone. He sat in his chair, putting on a charade of calm, playing a matching game on his phone. No one was talking, and the tension was as thick as bullet proof glass. 

Finally Merri rushed up to them. Her face was starch white, eyes wide. Kendrix jumped to his feet, and everyone except Griffin followed suit. “What is it?” Axel asked, his heart beating wildly in anticipation. “Is he awake?” 

Merri just nodded. “His voice… it’s the strangest thing. Like he’s meant to be speaking some long lost language, but he’s speaking English. I’ve never heard an accent like it.”

“What has he said?” Anna asked, tilting her head curiously. 

“His name.” Merri rose her gaze and looked at Axel. “I asked for his name.”

“And what did he say?” Kendrix asked impatiently, with a little more force than necessary. 

She turned to look at him, and Axel felt he could breathe again after that shocked, distant stare had been taken away. But what she said next blew the wind right back out of him. 

“He said his name… is _Arthur Pendragon_.”

The whole corridor seemed to grow stale with the reveal, and Axel instinctively turned to face a Griffin, who had looked up from his phone in shock. “ _No_.” He muttered, standing up. “Seriously. This is all just one big… very elaborate prank. There’s no way that is _the_ Arthur.”

“Who do you suppose he is then?” Axel asked, crossing his arms.

Merri fled back to Arthur’s room to check on him, while Griffin tried to formulate words. “I- don’t know. Some random nerd who wants to give the whole of the UK a heart attack? How would I know?”

The group all stared at him, silently willing him not to be so stubborn. Under the pressure of all those gazes, he finally cracked. He huffed out a breath, annoyed. “Look. If he’s King Arthur, don’t you think he’s missing something?”

“Excalibur wouldn’t have been buried with him, it’s under the protection of the Lady of the Lake, meaning he wouldn’t be resurrected with it.” Kendrix said, making a guess as to what Griffin was about to say, and sounding all too casual talking about resurrection.

“No- not that. Something else.” Griffin crossed his arms, nodding to the hospital room that a thousand year old sovereign had just woken up in. 

“If that’s King Arthur, where in the hell is Merlin?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Living in the same town as you, ya dipshit. 
> 
> Griffin's coming off more short tempered than I intended to make him, but screw it. I'm not very good at writing consistent personalities.
> 
> There is a slight possibility that I might stop following the Post on Friday schedule, because I'm still working on chapter five. I had everything already written up to chapter four. Hopefully I have it finished in time, but I'm also going back to school next week, so who knows. 
> 
> Until then, I hope y'all have a great week <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Small filler chapter mostly from Arthur’s POV :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I had to look up if there were pigeons in Wells, England (stupid question, I know, but I’ve never been and I like being 100% sure) and apparently, I think it was in 2019, like 40 pigeons just started falling from the sky, and were found on the ground, all dead. People thought they were being poisoned, and I think it was investigated by the police. So this chapter is dedicated to all those unfortunate birds that died in Wells. ❤️

Present Day,

May 1st - Beltane

21st Century

Merlin hadn’t realized that he was crying. 

Shock did that sometimes.

He sat in the grass beneath one of The Great Stones, staring blankly into the circle; not seeing anything but pair of bright, otherworldly blue eyes, crinkled at the edges from years of rare, thunderous laughter that revealed the widest smile the universe could ever hope to create.

**_ Take heart, for when Albion’s need is greatest, Arthur will rise again. _ **

Kilgarrah’s words had proven to be true after all.

He had been starting to loose faith.

Merlin had never been sure why he was so immune to death. He guessed it was because of his magic. The Fisher King and Cornelius Seigan had both been powerful enough to cheat or beat back death, in their own ways.

Merlin hadn’t known he was immortal at the time, but he still knew that he would wait for Arthur, no matter what.

He had been holding his King’s body, dragging his limp form to the edge of Avalon. But he had paused, and looked up at those words, and at the Dragon speaking them.

And just like that, he knew, with every fiber in his being, every spark of magic running through his blood, that he would be wait.

He hadn’t expected to be left waiting for so long.

The moment Merlin drifted out of his daze to realize that his cheeks were wet, he shattered.

It was a tranquil kind of shatter though. He curled in on himself, digging his fingers into his hair, silent sobs shaking his body so violently that he lost the ability to breathe.

He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to dance with joy or scream in pain.

_ 1,556 years, 4 months, and 2 days. _

That  _ prat _ left him alone for 1,556 years, 4 months, and 2 days.

Merlin hadn’t realized how starved of his old life he truly was, until he got a part of it back.

A  _ living _ part.

The more rational side to him thought,  _ But Arthur can’t be returned, surely? I would have felt his reincarnation. I would have felt the magic at work. _

But the mad, hopeful, and desperate part chanted,  _ He’s back he’s back he’s back he’s back he’s back— _

Merlin brought the horn to his lips but didn’t blow, simply tucked his arms into his chest and curled over his knees, rocking back and forth, trying not to hyperventilate.

It must have looked like an overly dramatic, frenzied, and illogical reaction on the outside: A man stands by a random circle of rocks, blows a horn, and then shatters into insanity for no good reason.

But Merlin decided that he deserved a moment of insanity, after everything.

A small, constantly anxious side of him brought something to attention.  _ Of all the wars, all the plagues, all the moments where Albion collectively lost hope, why has Arthur come back now? What could be worse than what we have already been through? _

Merlin only entertained the worry for a brief moment, because a second, much more urgent thought interrupted him.

_ How long has Arthur been alive? _

Merlin shot to his feet like a rocket, panicked. If Arthur was resurrected in a way that Merlin wasn’t able to detect, he could have been in the world for at least a year. All alone in a new century with things he just barely understood. He could be in danger.

He could be hurt.

Merlin was disappointed in himself for ditching Nemeton right then. Part of him knew how unhealthy his loyalty to Arthur had become. No matter who was taken into consideration, Arthur was always his top priority.

He felt guilty for getting in his car and driving away, he really did. 

He only got to use the horn once a year. He had never,  _ ever _ missed a Beltane. Not when he was drafted in a war, not when he was halfway across the world, not when he was being hunted by Saxons after Camelot’s fall.

And then Arthur returns, and suddenly he’s forcing everyone in Avalon to wait an extra year to get to see him again. He’s forcing himself to wait another year before connecting with his friends once more.

But the harsh, selfish side of him shoved away the guilt. He could suck it up. His friends and family could suck it up. He had waited for fifteen _hundred_ years, and Arthur was going to get a much deserved slap across the face for it. 

As soon as Merlin found him. And made sure he was alright. And felt his beating heart inside his chest, and saw that his skin no longer glowed blue.

_ Then _ he would slap him.

Probably more than once.

Merlin wasn’t in any condition to drive, but that was just a minor detail to be ignored. His eyes blurred with hysterical tears as he sped back home, bile and regret rising in his throat. 

He was becoming conflicted a lot lately. 

He didn’t know if he should turn around and speak to his loved ones, or try to find Arthur as soon as possible. Since he was already driving towards one option, he decided to stick with it, sending a desperate apology to everyone waiting for him in Avalon.

It had been a long year.

He was just going to have to deal with another one.

(•)

Arthur was one second away from committing homicide.

How did his friends expect him to get ready when every other moment, one of them was sticking their head through his door to distract him?

Damn Griffin. He must have been passing around Arthur’s room key like they were playing a game of Hot Potato.

“I’m coming!” He shouted instinctively, when the door opened for what must have been the fifth time.

Kendrix leaned in, raising his eyebrow at Arthur, who was hopping through his small kitchen, trying to get his right shoe on. “You’ve been saying that for ten minutes.”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t exactly give me a heads up to get dressed for a fun little field trip, did you?” Arthur shot back, finally getting the back of the shoe out from being tucked under the heel of his foot. “You’re just gonna have to deal with it.”

Kendrix raised his hands in surrender, flashing Arthur an insufferable grin. “Your shirt is inside out, by the way.”

“Oh, piss off!” Arthur shouted, lobbing his left shoe at his friend’s head. He purposely aimed too high, but Kendrix got the message, laughing as he shut the door again.

Arthur collapsed on his couch the second he was alone, grabbing his remaining shoe from across the room and wrestling it onto his foot with much more ease than he had with the right.

He closed his eyes for a brief moment, letting his vision from the morning play through his head again. 

He wracked his brain for the man’s name, but came up blank for the hundredth time.

The stranger in the red scarf had no name, no identity, nothing at all. But whenever Arthur thought about him, a warmth spread throughout his body, which, if indulged for too long, became painful. An ache would flare in his side, but he would be smiling. Whoever this person was, he had been special to Arthur.

Arthur looked for him all the time. He studied everyone in every crowded area, looked up whatever he could think of on the internet, and stared through car windows to see the driver and the passengers. The man _had_ to be somewhere. Then again, the places he saw during his flashes seemed so odd and foreign. Arthur didn’t recognize a single landmark, and thanks to Kendrix, he knew quite a few.   


He might have been a long way from home.

Arthur wondered if anyone was looking for him. The older man that always walked with regal authority, or perhaps the dark haired girl in the dirty dresses.

The man that dragged him out of bed in the morning and brought him breakfast seemed to care about him. For all Arthur knew, he could have been going out of his mind with worry, while Arthur was living without a care and throwing shoes at people.

The thought made him anxious, and he got the sudden urge to borrow Axel’s phone again to search for anything related to him. He knew it was pointless, but it made him feel better by looking.

One thought that kept reoccurring was,  _ What if no one cares? What if they’re glad that I’m gone? _ The idea that he had an entire life that he didn’t remember was unbearably stressful, and all the uncertainties that came with it made it worse. Arthur didn’t like thinking about it, but it was entirely possible that no body  _ wanted _ to find him. That they didn’t even bother to report him missing, because he had been such a nuisance to them. Arthur didn’t even know what kind of person he had been prior to waking up in Wells six months ago. He hoped that he hadn’t been a total ass.

Arthur exhaled, running his hand through his hair.  _ Save it for your nightmares. _ He chided himself.  _ It does no good to get overwhelmed when you’re supposed to be doing something else. _

In all fairness, though, it probably didn’t do any good to bottle it up inside him, either.   


He usually only addressed these thoughts when he couldn’t sleep, laying awake in the middle of the night. And even after his eyes closed, his anxiety was still never satisfied, expressing itself in horrific dreams that plagued Arthur for weeks on end. The most often form they took was him watching people he didn’t recognize being hurt or killed, and reacting as if he knew and loved them. Which he probably had, a long time ago.

Arthur looked up at his clock, marveling in the fact that it was almost 10:15 when to him it felt like 6 in the morning. He was way too lazy for his own good.

Pushing himself off the couch, he grabbed a muffin from the counter and stepped out the door. His friends were standing in the hallway outside, and Griffin grinned. “Well it’s about damn time!” He tossed Arthur’s keys to him so he could lock up his flat. Shooting Griffin an accusatory glare, he stuffed them in his pocket, hoping the idiot didn’t steal them again.

Axel was usually quiet, but whenever he spoke, it was almost always a sarcastic comment. This time, however, his eyes glanced over Arthur’s face, and he knit his eyebrows together in concern. “Did you get enough sleep last night?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Arthur lied, suddenly self conscious of his dark circles. “It’s just that thing where the more sleep you get, the more tired you feel when you wake up, I guess.” Kendrix’s obvious excitement faded the longer he looked at Arthur, and Arthur could tell he didn’t believe him. To spare himself from the pestering questions, he asked, “We’re going to Vicar’s Close today, right? Are we going anywhere else?”

Distracting Kendrix proved far too easy. His face lit up again, and he smiled like his life depended on it, bouncing on his toes a little. “Well, Vicars Close is a street, so there are a ton of places to check out. It’s said to be the oldest residential road with original buildings that are intact, built in the 14th century, which is  _ really  _ cool. But I was thinking we could go to that coffee shop again, afterwards. What was it called?  _ Morning necessities _ ?”

Griffin threw his head back and groaned, making Kendrix frown. “What? They had good French Toast.”

“Ok, but if that girl is there again, I’m staying in the car.”

“What, the one you hit on?” Arthur asked, grinning despite himself. 

“That was your own fault.” Axel agreed, crossing his arms over his chest and smirking. “That poor girl.”

Griffin threw his hands up. “How the bloody hell was I supposed to know that she was gay?”

The rest of the group laughed, apparently not satisfied with the amount of teasing they had accomplished the day before.   


Arthur ate his breakfast as they walked out of their apartment building, trying to convince himself that he was content. He desperately attempted to focus on the conversation at hand, keeping his dark thoughts at bay. He picked out the stray pistachio that didn’t belong in his chocolate chip muffin, tossing it to a group of pigeons pecking at the sidewalk.

If anyone noticed how absent he was, they didn’t say anything. 

:::

Despite being dead on his feet, Arthur actually enjoyed walking around Vicars Close. Something about the old buildings and the ancient atmosphere was comforting, and strangely familiar. The Cul-de-sac was just short of 150 meters long, and Kendrix bounced the whole way. There were a few people walking about, but not enough to make Arthur feel crowded or uncomfortable. There was Vicars Hall, Chapel, and library. The hall stood over a gateway that lead from Vicars Close to St. Andrews Street. It really was fascinating, but Arthur would never admit that to Kendrix.

He let his mind drift, staring at all the dusty windows and feeling more at home than he felt in his own flat.

Griffin dragged his hand across the bushes planted in front of the building, watching Kendrix ramble. Kendrix’s hands were flinging around wildly, further expressing whatever point he was trying to make.

Axel walked beside Arthur, watching the cobblestones pass beneath his feet. The two of them hung in the back of the group, and Arthur had a feeling that Axel wanted to talk to him.   


Kendrix drifted farther away to look at something, and Griffin cast a glance back before following. “Come on, keep up!”

Axel didn’t quicken his pace however, so neither did Arthur.

Finally he couldn’t stand the silence any longer. “What’s up?”

It was almost as if Axel had been waiting for an invitation to speak. Not a second after Arthur asked his question, Axel stated his.

“Have you remembered anything?”

It wasn’t an unusual thing to ask, the others did all the time. But Axel often sat back and let the others do the pestering, either afraid of being annoying or simply not caring.

Arthur gave his standard reply, a simple denial with a guilty glance to the side, but Axel didn’t look fooled. 

“Really?” He pushed, skeptical. “What about your dreams?”

Arthur looked up sharply, and stopped walking. Axel watched Kendrix and Griffin get father and farther away as Arthur asked, “How did you know that I’ve been dreaming?” 

Axel shrugged, finally turning his head to look at him. “You talk in to your sleep. I woke up the night of the Game and you were muttering something. It sounded like a different language.”

Axel was talking about a few weeks ago, when the four of them all piled into Griffin’s flat to eat pizza and watch a football game on TV. They had all ended up getting tipsy, and collectively decided to crash in Griffin’s living room, like one big, drunk sleepover. 

It was also the night of one of the worst nightmares Arthur could remember.

Everyone had been dying.

The old man with the scar above his eye; the dark skinned man laying in the girl’s arms; the young boy with curly hair giving him a strained smile, before collapsing to the ground; a pile of wood with a red cloak and sword placed on top, lit on fire.

Then it had been his turn.

Fire coursed through his veins, his heart ached, and a sharp pain was burrowing deeper and deeper into his ribs. Arthur could feel a ghost of a smile on his lips, as he stared into a familiar face that had been lost to time and memory.

Arthur shivered at the reminder of it, quickly focusing on his friend. “I don’t know any other language. I was probably just talking gibberish. That doesn’t mean I was remembering anything.” Arthur sincerely hoped that the nightmare had been just that. A dream borne from fear, and not anything that had ever actuallyhappened.

Axel didn’t look convinced. “What did you dream about?”

“I…” Arthur started, unsure of how to answer. He didn’t like lying to his friends, but talking about his nightmares just made him feel childish. “I don’t remember.”

Axel drew his mouth into a thin line, and finally shook his head, defeated. “Alright. Alright, fine. But you can tell me if you want to. I won’t judge.”

He picked up his pace, catching up with Griffin and Kendrix, and leaving Arthur feeling like shit.

Arthur kicked at the walkway, muttering angrily under his breath. If he didn’t want to talk about his dreams, then he  _ didn’t want to talk about his dreams _ . He didn’t owe Axel anything. He didn’t owe  _ anyone _ anything. But for some, unfathomable reason, he felt guilty.

They had put up with him for six months, and provided for him when he couldn’t provide for himself. He was accepted into their group so quickly that it felt almost like they had been together all their lives. The least he could do was be honest when they asked him a question.

Griffin looked back at him, pausing to let Arthur catch up. “You good, mate? You’ve been spacey all day.”

The response was almost generic. “Yeah, well, I’m tired. That’s what happens when  _ someone _ kicks your door down when you’re trying to sleep.”

“Bull crap. You stayed in bed until ten, you got enough sleep.”

Arthur scoffed, but didn’t encourage Griffin with a reply. Satisfied, his friend focused on a plaque that had caught Kendrix’s attention. “What’s that?”

Arthur let Griffin drift away, smiling slightly. 

Almost immediately, like it had been waiting for Arthur to be alone, the sound of a horn rang through the air.

It was faint, so much so that Arthur wondered if he had imagined it. But Arthur couldn’t have imagined the way it pierced into his mind, giving him the same feeling as the visions of the man with the neckerchief. Familiar, dizzying, and ethereal.

When he glanced at his friends, they didn’t seem to have heard it.

Arthur smacked his ear, genuinely worried that lack of sleep was causing him to hallucinate, but the horn sounded again.

It seemed to resonate through his head, making his vision go white, and his stomach twist with pain. His feet unconsciously shifted direction, like his body wanted to head towards the call. 

Then it was gone.

His eyesight went back to normal, and the pain went away. His legs itched to start moving, desperate to find the source of the sound.

Arthur shivered, left feeling empty and cold in the still, silent air of Vicar’s Close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m most definitely not going to be posting next week. I’ve been grounded, and don’t know when I’m going to get my electronics back. (It’s a long story, I ditched school during an anxiety attack) 
> 
> I don’t know when the next update will be, but it definitely won’t be on schedule. Until then, I hope y’all have a great weekend <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things happen in this chapter ._.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry that it's taken me so long to post. I've fallen into a strange mood where I have literally no motivation to do anything, which also means that I'm falling behind in school. And for some reason I just... can't bring myself to care about anything. I'll try to be better with uploading, but my electronics are still confiscated. I'm only allowed to use my lap top because I need it for school. Also I have another story that I have to finish by the end of this year, so I have to put most of my focus in that for now. Thank you for being so patient with me, I hope you like the chapter <3

_Magic is the most wondrous thing in existence. From it, life was born, and from life came history, pain, love, and humanity._

_For centuries people have been using Magic to explain the unexplained, to condemn those they fear, to bend and shape others to their will. But Magic is not a toy for humans to use as they see fit. It is not a sword in the soldiers hand, but rather the blood pumping through his veins. Magic is the very core of the Earth, pulsing through the land, the air, and the water. It’s inhaled into every lung, consumed by every organism. Magic is both the living and the dead, as well as everything that was never alive to begin with._

_But over time it has been stepped on, crushed, and beaten into hiding. Reality has become nothing but meaningless, repetitive days, where the very essence of the universe has been reduced to Myth, a source of ridicule for those that still believe it can be found._

_Over the years, the lines in which it traveled over the surface have been corroded, broken up, and frayed. Humanity took over the planet that they had no right to claim, discrediting the creator, and ruining the very thing that permits them life. Magic now swirls angrily, deep inside the core of the planet, steadily building as magic create more magic, festering like an infected wound._

_The only consistent outlet it has, is a fragile life form, patient as he watches time pass, blissfully unaware of the turmoil beneath his feet. Magic flows through him in a way that it hasn’t in any other living thing for decades. He is the only thing that the world has spared._

_Magic gratefully escapes through him, flooding him and his senses, jumping along his connections with the surface, running through the old power lines that have long since shattered. It surrounds him like a dark cloud, daring the rest of the world to try to destroy its only relief from banishment._

_Yes. Let it try._

_It won’t get very far._

_Every year he releases Magic into places where it once thrived, hoping to restore the land to its former glory. Magic dances through the old relics, but with nowhere to go, it soon dissipates back through the Earth, sinking down to where it started. And so begins the dangerous cycle of the New World.  
_

_Magic can feel him growing weaker. Not from lack of power, but from receiving too much of it. He’s slowly drowning, unaware that his senses are being eroded and his capacity diminishing._

_Desperate, Magic searches the entire world for a solution, for he has not fulfilled what he is meant to do. Not yet._

_A small flicker of life is found. A weak little flame that had just barely been holding on through the centuries. A soul, connected through fate to the man on the surface. Delighted, Magic sends it back to where it belongs, carries the tiny life up through the earth, as far as it can go, releasing it, in hopes that its connection with the man will prove useful. Magic can feel the soul’s existence, like it feels the temples and ruins that were once a breeding ground for the ancient power.  
_

_A life that stepped from one world to another, leaving an echo behind._

_But the man doesn’t notice. He’s been dulled by years of endless power, and he doesn’t feel the soul return to his world. He would have before. Before he had been damaged. But Magic found the life too late. Now, all it can do is wait. Hoping that the connection between the two draws them together._

_Luckily, it doesn’t have to wait long._

***

It was not a strange thing to see Merlin running through the corridors of the castle of Camelot. No matter what was happening, the boy always had a frantic and rushed air about him. Most of the time, it was either because he was late to serve Arthur breakfast, or he needed to stop an evil (magical) creature/person from destroying the kingdom. Of course, no one else knew about that last bit. Most of the other servants knew him only as: ‘ _that guy who’s always running into people_ ’, or, if he managed to make a lasting impression: ‘ _Oh yeah, Merlin, the clumsy idiot who’s managed to insult the king without getting sacked for eight years_.’

Several times, however, he would be running around with a smile on his face, nothing frantic about him. 

Today was one of those times.

The reason? Gwaine. It was no secret that the two of them were close, having become friends even before Gwaine was knighted. The roguish demeanor of Gwaine seemed to compliment the chaotic energy of Merlin remarkably well. Gwaine often got in the way of Merlin’s chores, (which Merlin was more than happy to let happen) playing childish games, making Merlin chase him around the citadel and through the castle halls, unknowingly helping Merlin release some of his built-up tension from the struggles he had endured. Or maybe Gwaine did know what he was doing. He might not have understood the reason for Merlin’s moods, but he did always seem to appear at the perfect time, when Merlin needed a bit of cheering up. 

It was for this reason that Merlin was now weaving through bodies, booking it down a corridor, hot on Gwaine’s heels. The wonderful bastard had stolen his polishing rag, eyes shining with mirth as he danced away from Merlin’s reach. 

Sometimes the game backfired, and Merlin wasn’t in the mood to fool around. Today though, he had just wanted to get out of the stupid armory and take a break for once in his life. And somehow, Gwaine had known. 

Now the man was running backwards, waving the rag tauntingly in Merlin’s face, still managing to stay ahead, despite being dressed in heavy chainmail. While Merlin wove through the people in the corridors, Gwaine just ran, and assumed everyone would be smart enough to get out of the way. Luckily for him, they were. 

Merlin laughed, making a wild grab for his rag, but Gwaine tucked it back against his chest, and turned to face forward, picking up the speed. 

They took a staircase two steps at a time, and tore off in one direction, which thankfully had less servants milling about, so there was less chance for a collision.

Of course, with Merlin’s luck, that’s exactly where the collision happened. 

Leon had the worst timing in existence, apparently.

He turned a corner just as Merlin was passing by, and walked right into him, stumbling back in surprise. 

If it had been anyone but Leon, the two of them would have fallen over like a pair of bowling pins. As it was, Merlin skidded to stop himself, but ended up tripped over his own feet instead. Leon grabbed his bicep at the last second, stopping him from falling on his face. “Watch where you’re going, you—" he paused, looking at Merlin. Then he sighed. “I should have known it would be you.”

Merlin grinned sheepishly, casting an impatient glance in the direction Gwaine had disappeared. He wasn’t too worried about running headfirst into the First Knight of Camelot. A couple years ago, maybe. Leon hadn’t seemed to like him in the beginning. He had been, as Gwaine said, an angry old man in a little boy’s body. Leon had always been a rule follower, and never really appreciated the informality with which Merlin treated everyone and everything. However, the knight couldn’t really complain, because the number of times Merlin ended up saving both Arthur and Uther’s lives was undeniable. 

Thankfully, Between Gwaine’s mischief, Merlin’s inevitable charisma, Arthur becoming King, and the rules changing within the knighthood, Leon had softened a bit. His lips were quirked up at the edges as he crossed his arms, trying to look stern. “Just what do you think you’re doing, Merlin?”

Now that Merlin had stopped running, he was acutely aware of his screaming lungs, and he took a few deep breaths, waving his hands helplessly. Finally, he managed to breathe out an exasperated, “ _Gwaine_.”

Recognition dawned on Leon’s face, and he nodded, like that was all the explanation he needed. “Ah. You may proceed.”

Merlin huffed out a laugh, then looked down the hall. “Um… you didn’t see where he went, by any chance, did you?”

“Nope!” Leon patted his back once, grinning. “Good luck Merlin!” Then he walked off, to wherever he had been going to begin with.

Merlin sighed, pursing his lips. “Great.”

The arse could have at least waited for him. 

Merlin cast a furtive glance back the way Leon had gone, making sure he really was alone in the corridor. Seeing that he was, he closed his eyes, concentrating. **“** **Gadewch imi weld llwybr fy ysglyfaeth mor sicr ag y gallaf weld yr awyr”** The words rolled off his tongue with ease, powerful and dramatic as it echoed through the hall. Honestly Merlin was too sore from yesterday’s training session with Arthur to walk aimlessly around the castle trying to find Gwaine. Not when he had just recently learned a spell that fit the situation perfectly. 

Merlin’s senses expanded, covering the Castle of Camelot like a blanket, unfurling through the corridors, searching the citadel. He felt Leon's presence, whistling tunelessly as he walked further away; the guards patrolling the corridor beneath his feet; Arthur outside, swinging his sword at a dummy and releasing residual stress from an earlier counsel meeting.

Merlin felt every life that surrounded him, slowly carding through them until he found the one he wanted.

_There._

With a noise of triumph, He recognized Gwaine, ambling about in confusion as to why he wasn’t being chased anymore. 

Merlin grinned. "Got you."

***

To say Merlin was panicking would be an understatement.

Over the years, he’d made up a million scenarios featuring Arthur’s return. Most of them touched on the same general feel. Him suddenly detecting his King’s presence, desperately struggling up the weathered hills of Glastonbury Tor (hopefully NOT having to dig Arthur out from under the Earth) and finding those brilliant blue eyes waiting for him.

And it was absolutely no one’s business if one or two of those fantasies included him pressing his lips to Arthur’s, in pure relief and euphoria.

But now? He had no idea what to expect, least of all how he would react. He should have heard something on the news, or felt the magic bring his _literal other half_ back to the waking world. He should have known.

Why hadn’t he known?

Had Arthur even looked for him upon his return?

Unfortunately, 1500 years of visiting Avalon had not managed to quell his uncertainty about his and Arthur’s relationship. If anything, sometimes he walked away from the Stones of Nemeton feeling worse. They only ever talked about meaningless things, and whenever Merlin was driving away, eyes watering after their reluctant goodbye, he’d wonder if he’d been annoying, or ridiculous, and end up hating himself for loving a man he could only see once a year.

It was a tiring process.

The sound of a car horn jolted Merlin back to reality. He cursed, trying to focus his attention on remembering how to drive. He would find out the answer to his questions soon enough, once he found Arthur.

Speaking of, where the hell was that prat?

Merlin had been intending to just drive to Glastonbury Tor, but now that he thought about it, he doubted Arthur would still be there. So instead, he look a deep breath, eyelids fluttering, conflicted between his habit of closing his eyes to concentrate, and his instinct to keep them open in order to stay on the road. A deep rumble built up in his throat, and he hissed words that he hadn’t spoken in a long time. **“** **Gadewch imi weld llwybr fy ysglyfaeth mor sicr ag y gallaf weld yr awyr”**

The ancient incantation was probably the quickest way to find something that was lost, letting the sorcerer’s senses expand beyond them and directing them easily to the person or thing they were looking for, as long as they could visualize it. Normally it would have some drawbacks, like range, but Merlin found that the magic burst happily from the tip of his tongue, readily cooperating in a way that it never had when he was young. Power flooded his veins, greedy and excited to the point where it was actually frightening.

Merlin’s chest constricted in his effort to rein his magic in, only expelling the necessary amount.

It whined in protest, curling under his skin, hot and impatient. It wasn't often that Merlin preformed a spell, other than simple levitation or manipulation tricks to keep his hands free. His magic was getting fed up with not being used, building and flowing steadily, swirling around him so thickly that sometimes he feared people would notice.

He hadn’t cast this particular spell in a while. For a second he thought he might have forgotten the words. But he hadn’t. And now he could feel his magic weaving through traffic, hot on Arthur’s trail like a pack of hounds.

Oh god.

He was tracking Arthur.

Arthur, who was a living, breathing person again.

The thought hit Merlin like a freight train, and his breath got caught somewhere in his throat. Nothing seemed real anymore.

Little flickers of other people’s existence surrounded Merlin, but his magic ignored them, knowing exactly what it was looking for, and not slowing for anything. Arthur was the whole reason he had magic in the first place, was he not? If anything was more familiar with him than Merlin, it would be Merlin's magic.

And then there it was.

Merlin still didn’t understand how he could tell who a person was by simply 'feeling' them. But when his magic finally touched it, there was no mistaking the distant presence of his lost King. It felt so inexplicably _Arthur_ that there was no room left for doubt. _  
_

Merlin inhaled, itching to just teleport his car to the location right then and there, witnesses be damned.

Instead, he noted the distance and direction, mapping it out in his head, and opened his eyes. It felt like he had been caught up in his magic for several minutes, but it had been no more than a second. He shifted in his seat, settling with the new pull in his gut, leading him to a destiny that had been long forgotten. 

(•)

Arthur tried to get the sound of the horn out of his head, he really did. But no matter what song he started humming, or what rhythm he tapped out on his hip, or what the topic of his friends' conversation was, he couldn't stop coming back to it.

The absence of it left a bitter tang in his mouth, and he felt himself getting more anxious as seconds ticked by. Something was wrong. He knew it was. Something should have happened when he heard the call, something more than a sudden headache and a pain in his chest.

Arthur rubbed his temples as he sat in the back of Axel’s car, his eyes squeezed shut, counting backwards from 100 to try to calm his racing heart. They had stayed for another hour hanging around Vicar’s close, before exploring other aspects of the nearby areas. Needless to say, Arthur had not enjoyed the rest of the trip. He tried hard not to kill the mood of the group, but after a while, his headache became too much to handle in silence, and his friends noticed, deciding to leave a few minutes later. Now they were headed back towards their apartment building, planning to stop at _Morning Necessities_ on the way.

Axel always carried Advil in his car, and had demanded that Arthur take some, but Arthur honestly couldn't tell if it was working. Kendrix and Griffin were trying to contribute as well, giving him their bottled water and rolling down the windows to let fresh air in. He hated it. Don't get him wrong, he was touched that his friends cared, but he never liked needing to be looked after. His first instinct was to pass everything off like it was fine, but his head felt like it was going to explode, and he couldn't keep his eyes open for more than a second, so that was out of the question.

Kendrix spoke in a worried whisper, breaking the tense silence that filled the vehicle. “Maybe we should skip going to the café? Arthur shouldn’t have to suffer through that.”

Everyone made a noise of agreement, and Arthur had to admit it sounded good. But something in him tugged painfully at the idea, and suddenly he didn’t want to go home. He wanted – needed – to keep moving. He hated the idea of sitting in his room with the door locked, unable to go anywhere.

“No.” He muttered, pain flaring at the simple word. “No, I’ll – I’ll be fine, I just need a minute.”

“Mate, you’re as pale as a ghost, we need to get you to bed.” Griffin said, hesitating.

“It feels better if I put pressure on it.” Arthur lied, opening his eyes to flash a brief smile. “See?”

His friends didn’t look convinced.

“Please?”

Arthur didn’t beg often, so when he did, his group usually took him seriously. As consequence, he often got whatever it was that he asked for. He was counting on this technique now, hoping that it still had effect when he was doubled over in pain. Despite his blurry vision, he saw the three of them exchange confused and doubtful glances.

Finally, griffin asked, “Why do you want to go there so badly? You got a date or something?”

"If I say yes can I go?"

Axel sighed. "Fine. but if your headache doesn't get better after the medicine kicks in then we're going home, whether you like it or not."

That sounded reasonable enough for Arthur, so he didn't protest further, just sat back in his seat and closed his eyes again.

It might have been his imagination, but the closer they got to _Morning Necessities_ , the more his headache seemed to lessen.

(•)

The more Merlin followed his magic, the more he wondered if it was playing a cruel trick on him. He knew the route he was taking, and knew where it was leading him. He was driving back to Wells. He was driving home.

Out of everything that had happened that day, this was the least believable. 

There was no way on Heaven, Hell, or Earth that Arthur had been this close to Merlin without him ever realizing. It just wasn’t possible. His magic didn’t seem to care about that though, because it continued to guide him right into the heart of town, past schools, hotels, and even a retirement home. 

And then it hit him. 

He wasn’t just going through Wells. He was headed to _Morning Necessities_. He’d walked that road too many times to not recognize it.

Merlin remembered the day before, when a young man, who’s voice sounded familiar, had walked into the cafe with a small group of friends. And when Gabby had said his name-

_"Arthur?"_

It was so ridiculous, and ironic, and unbelievable, that Merlin started to laugh. But it also made so much sense.

Merlin pulled over and parked on the side of the road, deciding to walk the rest of the way. He didn't want to be stuck in his car if he ran into Arthur somewhere out here.

That turned out to be the right decision.

A red minivan parked just opposite from him, and four people climbed out, talking and laughing. What were their names again? Griffin was the short one, Merlin remembered. He'd made quite the impression the other day. The other two were less memorable. One of them was... Ace? Alex? And the other guy's name started with a K. Or was it an S?

Merlin didn't pay them too much mind, because the last person that stepped out of the car was someone he knew well.

Arthur looked exactly like Merlin remembered him, except now he was dressed in jeans and a fitted white T-shirt that suddenly made Merlin _very_ uncomfortable. He had his fingers pressed against his temples, rubbing circles against his skull as if he were in pain. But then one of the men said something, and he burst out laughing, seeming to forget about his head for a moment. Merlin allowed himself to drink in the sight; Arthur's smile, his pale, non-glowy skin, his golden hair. Everything about him seemed surreal. after 1500 years of only seeing Arthur surrounded in blinding white light, seeing him in a modern setting felt like an oddly convincing apparition. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Merlin noticed that he had stopped walking, and was standing in the street, staring. He also noticed that somewhere along the line, he had started crying.

Arthur must have felt the weight of Merlin's gaze, because he looked around, smile fading into unease as he reached for his temples again.

And then they locked eyes.

The world fell away as the pair of them looked at each other in disbelief. Cars passed, and Merlin's heart leaped in fear every time, as if Arthur would disappear in the second that his view was obscured, like those dramatic scenes in movies and TV shows. But neither of them moved.

And from across a lane of traffic, Merlin saw Arthur's lips part.

It was hard to tell from so far away, but he could have sworn that Arthur said his name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not entirely confident about this chapter but I'm posting it anyway cause why not. I also have a couple things to say before I sign off:
> 
> 1\. Thank you so, so much to all the people who have commented. I will do my best to reply to everyone who does, as soon as I see the message. You might not think so, but it really does help. Everything you say helps my confidence tenfold, and I didn't know how important positive feedback was for things like this until I started a story of my own. So I owe you a million thanks for not only reading, but offering such kind words to encourage me. 
> 
> 2\. I've recently got a new idea for another Merlin/Merthur fan fiction (no surprise there) that I will be writing once I'm finished with this story. I'm actually really excited about it, because its gonna be a body-swap AU - which I've never done before - called Playing King, and I've thought through the plot a whole lot more than I did for this one, so I thought I'd share that. 
> 
> 3\. I have not thought through this plot a lot, and this chapter is the first one to show the underlying conflict I'm intending for the story. So I apologize if its wobbly or poorly written, I tend to think of expositions and resolutions before even considering what to put in the middle. (Also I just kinda pulled the tracking spell thing out of my ass, cause I had no idea what to fill this chapter with, so sorry if it seems random.)
> 
> 4\. I'm using Welsh for the spells, so sorry to any Welsh speakers, if that comes off as rude. You're language is beautiful (I'm actually trying to learn it) and it was the closest that I could get to what they might have spoken, since people believe that the original Arthurian legends came from Wales.
> 
> 5\. Another useless fact that thankfully isn't about dead pigeons this time: (This is all according to sportlegacy.net, some websites say different things) Bowling has been dated back to 3200 BC (about 3700 years BEFORE the 6th century, when Arthurian legend supposedly takes place, and 5200 years ago today) from ancient Egypt. However, it wasn't until about the 5th century (400-500 CE) that it started to resemble bowling as it is today. And now I'm kind of mad that we didn't get a scene of The knights and Merlin bowling at the tavern or some shit because that would have been AMAZING. You will most likely never need to know this fact in your life, but its cool. So deal with it. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you all are doing well, thank you for your support, and have a great rest of your day ;)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin does some stuff. Arthur spends the whole time incapacitated. Typical.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Back again with chapter seven! I gotta say, the response to last chapter made my entire year. Thank you. 
> 
> Random self promotion: I made a Tumblr account! I post literally nothing but things related to Merlin (and the obsession continues) so if that interests you you can check me out! 
> 
> My username is: aradia-pendragon
> 
> I'm feeling a little better with my motivation, I'm still lagging behind in school, but school doesn't count. Right now I just wanna write about two gay 6th century dorks. So here you go, and I hope you enjoy this chapter <3

**Present Day**

**Beltane,** **May 1st**

**21st Century**

Later, Arthur was told that he fainted. Collapsed, right there on the sidewalk.

He doesn’t remember that part.

He can’t recall falling, or losing consciousness, much less why it happened. The only thing he can remember, is the feeling he got. Like he was being watched. A chill settled in his spine, and he was suddenly very aware of everything around him. Whatever his friends were saying was lost to the static in his head, and he turned around and saw—

Oh.

The name had slipped from his tongue so easily. Familiar, and perfect, and _right._ His friends had stopped talking, looking over at him in confusion, but he only had eyes for that lone figure on the opposite end of the street. A mop of raven hair, pale skin, and accented cheekbones. Arthur couldn’t see his eyes, or the color of them, but in his mind, he knew they would be a stormy blue, bright with tears.

“ _Merlin?”_

And then... nothing. Everything went black.

(•)

Merlin's day was quickly going downhill. And to think, just that morning he had jumped into his car, in such a good mood. Now, he was watching Arthur's eyes glaze over - again.

Merlin was running before Arthur even hit the concrete.

A car honked at him, nearly running him over before the driver slammed on the brakes. Merlin braced his hand against the hood, barely remembering to wave an apology before taking off again.

By the time he'd crossed the street, Arthur had collapsed into one of his friend's hold - Axel, Merlin decided - his eyes screwed shut. Axel was crouched on the sidewalk, supporting Arthur, shaking him and calling his name. Merlin skidded to a halt, kneeling down next to him. This successfully caught everyone's attention, and Axel looked up at him, suspicious. "Who are you?"

"Colin. Is he breathing?" Merlin didn't hesitate, just rattled off one of the names that he had made up for himself, and moved on.

Axel looked taken aback. "Uh, yeah. I- I don't know what happened, but he's breathing." Merlin reached forward, moving to brush Arthur's hair away from his forehead, but Axel shifted back. "What- what are you doing?"

Merlin released a shaky breath, focusing instead on the steady rise and fall of Arthur's chest. "Sorry, I just- um." Crap. How did he explain this? "I'm... A doctor? I saw him faint."

”What do you think happened?” Axel asked, almost immediately.

Merlin shook his head, his own breathing shallow. “I don’t— I don’t know.”

"Well, we need to get him in the car." One of the guys - Griffin - said, helping Axel lift him. Merlin scrambled to his feet, following their movements. "Stupid jerk. We should have just gone home."

Axel made a noise of agreement, shifting so that Arthur’s weight was distributed between him and Griffin. Merlin had to physically restrain himself from reaching out.

The other guy – who’s name started with a K (S?) – had been staring at him strangely, but still moved to help his friends. Merlin cleared his throat, rubbing his eyes, remembering that he had been crying. “Have you—um. He looked like he was in pain?”

K. nodded, an expression of worry on his face, as he watched Axel and Griffin load Arthur into the car. “He was complaining about a headache. We wanted to take him back to his flat, but he insisted on coming here first. Fat lot of good that did him.” Merlin hesitated. Arthur had been alive long enough to get a _flat_? K. continued, seemingly unaware of Merlin’s mounting nausea. “We should probably take him to the hospital.” He paused, his next sentence said almost like he was speaking to himself. “It’s the strangest thing. He’s never fainted like this before.”

Merlin snorted. “Not unless he’s been knocked out, no.” The others gave him confused glances, and he swallowed, correcting himself. “Uh, I would assume, that is.”

Axel studied him wearily. “Right. Well, thank you for the concern, but, like Kendrix said, we should probably get this idiot to the hospital. Um, sorry for taking up your time.”

Merlin had a brief moment to be proud of himself for getting the first letter of Kendrix’s name right, but then Axel’s words registered.

He looked at Arthur’s prone form, laying in the backseat, and his anxiety spiked. He tried to remind himself that Arthur was breathing. His cheeks were flushed, and he was just sleeping, look, he could see his eyes moving under his eyelids! He was fine, he was alive, he was still breathing he was—

“…Are you OK?”

Merlin inhaled sharply at Griffin’s voice, startled out of memories of blood-soaked chainmail and pale, lifeless skin.

He tore his eyes away from Arthur, seeing Griffin leaning against the passenger side door, his eyebrows drawn together in concern. Axel had already moved to the driver’s seat, and was climbing inside. Merlin couldn’t let them get away with Arthur. Not when he was so close. And unconscious. Could he follow them in his car? Yes. That’s what he’d do. He’d still prefer being able to see Arthur, but this was probably the best option, considering…

“Do you... Do you want to come with us?” Kendrix wouldn’t meet Merlin’s eye as he offered up the sudden invitation, picking at his nails nervously. Merlin wanted to hug the man. _Yes!_ He thought. _Obviously! Thank you!_

Griffin, however, looked baffled. “Mate, he probably has better things to do with his life than hop into some stranger’s car.”

"No!" Merlin interjected, more than a little panicky. "No, really, it's not a problem. Its. Uh. My off day? Please, the least I could do is make sure your friend will be OK."

Griffin frowned. "Really, you don't have to—"

"—Great!" Kendrix cut in, flashing a happy little grin, moving to climb into the backseat. "You can sit with me and the Pillock."

Despite himself, Merlin smirked. These new friends of Arthur's seemed _quite_ fond of him.

Still looking a bit uncomfortable, Griffin shrugged. “Sorry, mate. Seems like you’re stuck with Axel’s poor choice of music for a while. Not too late to turn back.”

Axel made an offended noise behind the wheel, punching Griffin’s shoulder when he was in reach. “At least I don’t play _my_ music so loud that my whole building hears it. And at least I don’t sing along in the shower. Your screeching makes me go deaf half the time.”

“Excuse you, I have a delightful singing voice!”

“You sound like a raccoon being chased by a dump truck before getting run over.”

“Well that’s just rude.”

Kendrix saw Merlin’s baffled expression, and smiled. “Ignore them. They’re like an old married couple at this point. Have known each other since secondary school. Truth is, they’re both the exact same amounts of obnoxious.” He hoisted Arthur into a sitting position, giving Merlin room to slide into the backseat next to him. “We have a neighbor who I swear has tried to poison them a few times.”

“By neighbor do you mean you and Arthur?” Griffin asked, turning in his seat as Axel started the engine. “Don’t think I don’t know how you two swapped out the milk in my fridge with an expired carton.”

“You weren’t supposed to know about that.”

Merlin grinned, letting himself bask in the familiar back-and-fourth nature of their argument. He’d missed these kinds of interactions. It had always been second nature to him, banter like this. But over the decades he had gotten more and more isolated, and then he could only really have a relationship like that on Beltane each year.

Well, maybe all of that changed today.

As he buckled his seat belt, his gaze drifted to Arthur, who was being fastened in by Kendrix. He was so close. Close enough that their shoulders would touch if Kendrix wasn’t holding Arthur up. Merlin sat on his hands, not wanting to freak people out with his violent urge to cling to his king like a lifeline, bury his head into the crook of Arthur’s neck, and sob uncontrollably.

That probably wasn't the acceptable reaction of a doctor who was helping a stranger get to the hospital.

When Kendrix released his hold on Arthur though, he slouched sideways, his head bumping against Merlin’s shoulder, and Merlin forgot how to breathe. Damn this limp noodle of a man. This was just inconsiderate. Merlin looked down at Arthur’s sleeping form in shock, and Kendrix apologized, reaching out like he was going to pull Arthur away, but Merlin shooed his hand away on instinct. “It’s fine, I— I don’t mind.”

Kendrix tilted his head, and Merlin would have been able to see the gears working in his mind, if he had been paying attention. Instead, he was busy trying to get oxygen into his lungs, staring at his lap and making sure his hands stayed in place. Arthur was right there. _Right there._ And Merlin wasn't allowed to hold him.

Luckily, Axel distracted him, looking in the mirror and smirking. "This brings back memories, doesn't it? Arthur unconscious in the back seat?"

Kendrix laughed. "If only Anna were here, like last time." Catching Merlin's confused look, he explained. "Arthur is an amnesiac. We found him, several months ago, passed out at... er. Outside. We brought him to the hospital, but he had completely forgotten who he was. The only information he had inside his head was his name. We kind of adopted him after that. We got him a flat, a job, and a new life. It's kind of obvious that he's distressed about not remembering his old one, but he gets by fine, I think."

Merlin was... unsettled by this, to say the least. He remembered all too clearly the time Lancelot had returned from the dead, nothing but a shade, a shell with his face, memories filled in by Morgana so that he was a convincing actor. Surely Arthur wasn't...? No. Definitely not. Lancelot hadn't passed out when he saw Merlin. And Shades were controlled by whoever raised them from the dead. So unless the Sidhe's orders were to live in an apartment and get friends, Arthur being a Shade made no sense. Still, Merlin's stomach twisted at the thought of his friend not remembering him. 

"Oh." he muttered, unsure what to say. "That's- um. Very nice of you to do. I assume its not easy taking care of a blank slate like that." Kendrix smiled awkwardly in response, letting the car fall into silence again.

They all stayed that way for a while, giving Merlin nothing to focus on except the blood roaring in his ears.

It wasn't until a few minutes later, when Merlin was leaning back against his head rest, his eyes closed, Arthur's hair tickling his jaw, that Kendrix sprung his trap.

"So, you said your name was Colin, right?"

Merlin froze, his eyes opening in suspicion. “Uh… yeah. Yeah, it is.”

Kendrix stared at him, his face a mask of innocent curiosity. Griffin and Axel stayed silent as he asked, “Really?”

Suddenly, Merlin felt cornered. The worst conversations always happened in a moving car. There wasn’t anywhere to go, unless he could roll the window down fast enough.

He nodded, glancing to the front of the car in concern before meeting Kendrix’s gaze.

Still wearing that perfect façade of innocence, he pointed to the sleeping form of Arthur. “Then why did he call you Merlin?”

_Crap._

The car swerved in Axel's shock, and he cursed. Griffin spun around in his seat, incredulous. “Kendrix, what the fu—“ Then he saw Merlin's panicked expression, and his jaw dropped. "Shit, are you really?"

Merlin tried not to be offended by the question, knowing that he was usually depicted as an old man in a blue robe. His gaze shifted between Kendrix and Griffin, trying to form words. "Wha-what? I don't know what you're talking about. My name’s Colin, I already told you."

Griffin frowned. "Thinking back on it, I could have sworn that Arthur was staring at you before he collapsed. And he did say something, I just didn't hear it. Did he really say 'Merlin'?"

“Yep.” Kendrix said, at the same time Merlin said a frantic, “No! Of course not!”

Kendrix raised his hands in surrender. “Look, if you’re really, genuinely named Colin, I won’t pry. Just tell me to lay off, and I will. But I know what I saw, and I know what I heard. He called you Merlin, I’m sure of it. And we already know about who Arthur really is, too. We’ve actually been keeping it a secret from _him_ this whole time. You don’t need to hide anything from us. Just... don’t think that I’m going to meet a 15 hundred year old wizard and not ask any questions.”

“Especially if he looks like he’s twelve.” Griffin chimed in.

“Do I really look that young?” Merlin asked, then nearly smacked himself. That’s not the part of the conversation he should be focusing on. 

Kendrix shot Griffin an annoyed glare. “No, you don’t. You look fine. Ignore him.”

Axel had been silent behind the wheel ever since he managed to get the car under his control again, but now he spoke. “So… is that a yes? You’re him?”

Merlin looked down at his sleeping king, and sighed. No longer having an excuse to reign himself in, his hands acted on their own, brushing some of the hair away from Arthur’s forehead gently. Kendrix and Griffin watched in silence. He didn’t see any reason to lie to them, if they already knew the truth about Arthur’s identity. “I… yes. Yeah, I’m him. Probably not what you expected, but most of your lore on me is wrong, anyway.”

A slow, triumphant smile spread across Kendrix’s face. Before he had the chance to ask all of the questions he’d warned Merlin about, Griffin said, “So are you or are you not the Anti Christ?”

“Griffin!” Axel hissed, swatting at his friend, but keeping his eyes focused on the road. “You can’t just ask someone if they’re the Anti Christ!”

Merlin laughed, allowing himself the luxury of wrapping his arm around Arthur’s shoulder. And _he still wasn’t close enough_. God, he never wanted to let this man go. “No, I’m not.” He answered, and Griffin actually had the gall to look disappointed.

Axel glanced at him in the mirror. “So am I still taking him to the hospital, or do you want to come back to our flat?”

Merlin thought for a moment. He didn’t like the idea of being in a hospital when Arthur woke up. And he _would_ wake up. “Let’s go with the flat option.” He decided. “I can heal him there.”

Kendrix frowned. “Heal him… with magic, you mean?”

“If I have to.” Merlin conceded. “Why? Is that a problem?”

Kendrix was quick to shake his head. “No! No, of course not, I just… wasn’t sure.” He pursed his lips, like he was contemplating asking something. Merlin stared at him expectantly, absently carding his fingers through Arthur’s hair. “Do you…? Um. Do you mind sharing the full story? With us. If our account of what happened is inaccurate, then… what really happened?”

Merlin exhaled, stilling his hand so that it just rested, tangled in golden threads. “It’s… kind of a long story.”

“Well we’re about half an hour from the flat, so give us the basics.” Griffin said. “And by basics, I mean the important stuff, like embarrassing baby Arthur stories and why you’re not a wrinkly old man.”

“No baby stories, sadly,” Merlin laughed, “I met him just before he turned 21. And I usually am a wrinkly old man, but I can change my age whenever I want, being the most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the earth, and all that.”

Griffin frowned. “What about Voldemort?”

Kendrix pinched the bridge of his nose. “Mate, just shut up. Please.” Griffin raised his hands in surrender, nodding to Merlin to begin telling his story.

So he did. He told them about growing up in Ealdor and moving to Camelot; meeting Arthur and becoming his servant; having to hide his magic every single time he saved the Prince’s life. 

He told them about Avalon, and Excalibur, and he even briefly mentioned Freya. He struggled through telling them about Morgana and Agravaine, as well as Lancelot and Gwen. 

He told them about the ten long years of listening to a dragon dance around the word _soulmates_ , before ultimately telling him that it had been hopeless since the beginning, and Arthur had been destined to die. But not to worry, because he was supposed to return as soon as a bunch of egotistical blue fairies decided they didn’t want him anymore. All he had to do was wait. 

Griffin, Kendrix and Axel all listened intently, not daring to interrupt. Kendrix was staring at Arthur in awe, like he couldn’t quite believe he’d been living with the man for six months. Griffin, however, had his full attention trained on Merlin, a sort of sad expression on his face.

Axel parked in front of their flat just as Merlin was getting to the part about the Horn of Cathbhadh, and talking to Arthur each year at Beltane.

They all sat in the car for a little while longer, listening to Merlin wrap up everything. Then they stayed there for a few extra minutes, awed silence filling up the car, until it became stifling. 

Merlin had never told anyone the full story. Not unless they’d been there. He waited anxiously, gauging their reactions.

Kendrix cleared his throat. “Well. Glad to know Arthur at least didn’t sleep with his sister.” No one laughed, but there were a few hesitant smiles. Kendrix nodded awkwardly, opening his car door. “Let’s get the Once and Future King tucked into bed, shall we?”

**(•)**

If Arthur concentrated hard enough, the darkness would give way to memories. At least, he assumed they were memories. It was too consistent and detailed to be a dream, and it felt a lot like his flashbacks. Except now he knew names. 

_“Hey. Come on, that’s enough.”_

_“What?”_

_“You’ve had your fun, my friend.”_

_“Do I know you?”_

_“I’m Merlin.”_

As soon as the boy — Merlin — said his name, something clicked, and the floodgates opened. A tidal wave of fragmented memories and words slammed into Arthur, sending him under, and leaving him drowning in a life he never knew he had, frantically trying to get air into his screaming lungs. 

_“If this is you trying to leave your job...”_

_“No. I’m happy to be your servant. Till the day I die.”_

Uther. Morgana. Guinevere. Gaius. Gawaine. Elyan. Leon. Percival. Lancelot. Agravaine. Mordred. 

_“See you don’t even laugh at my jokes anymore, seriously. I haven’t seen you smile these past three days.”_

Merlin. 

Each name was a river, carving through his mind, leading the way to another set of flashes, tugging at Arthur, trying to get him to follow their path. 

It was too much. He couldn’t breathe. He felt like he was being ripped apart. 

_“Why did you never tell me?”_

_“I wanted too, but...”_

_“What?”_

_“You’d have chopped my head off.”_

_“I’m not sure what I’d have done.”_

Arthur couldn’t keep up with it all. He saw so much death, and destruction, passing by at the speed of light, each horrific image soon replaced with another. 

_“I don’t want you to change. I want you... to always... be you.”_

A taste of blood in his mouth; thick smoke from raids on Druid camps; tears of grief dripping down his chin; the pain of steel in his side. He felt it all. He wanted it to stop. _Needed_ it to stop. It was too fast, too bloody, too loud, too—

_“Stay with me.”_

Arthur’s eyes flew open. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason I feel like this chapter was really fast paced and poorly written. Oh well. 
> 
> Last chapter's end notes were really long, So I won't say much this chapter, other than Merry Christmas, (if you celebrate it) and Happy New Year! I hope you have a wonderful week, a wonderful month, and a wonderful life all around. Thank you so much for sticking through this story even when I honestly don't know where it's going to go. Thankfully, I finished my very first original novel a few days ago, so I don’t have anything else to focus on except writing this. 
> 
> I promise that I'll come back with chapter eight, I just don't know when. Until then, see ya!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur resists killing Merlin with love and affection. Just barely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmfao so. um. I lied in last chapter's end notes, when I said I'd have nothing to do but work on this story. 
> 
> School started up again, I'm working on starting a YT channel, I signed up for a Merlin Bingo Challenge Thingy, and I made a redbubble account. (and so far have uploaded 10 Merlin-related works (and 1 spn work), if you want you can check me out: https://www.redbubble.com/people/FangirlAlert-/shop?asc=u&ref=account-nav-dropdown) 
> 
> So basically it's like this:
> 
> Me: Man, I hate being busy, I just want to finish everything I'm working on and then never do anything ever again  
> Also me: You know what would be awesome? If I learned how to ride horses, took acting classes, sold my art, wrote 5 stories at once, started a YouTube channel, volunteered at shelters, learned a second language, and also dabbled in witchcraft! All the while balancing Advanced Honors classes! That doesn't sound stressful at all!
> 
> Point is, I can promise that I will continue working on this story until it's finished, but I can't promise speedy updates, since I insist on pick pocketing other people for spare interests and hobbies that catch my eye. 
> 
> Thank for your patience, and without further adieu, here's the next chapter <3

**Present Day**

**May 2nd**

**21st Century**

Everything felt wrong.

Arthur's bed was too small, the mattress wasn't soft enough, and there weren't enough pillows. And he could have sworn that the world wasn’t normally that bright. 

His eyes blinked open, slowly, and he groggily lifted a hand to block out the ceiling light and spare himself from going blind. His blankets felt tight around him, like the sheets were tucked under the mattress, restraining him.  
  
Arthur scrubbed at his face, barely keeping a low whine from escaping his throat. Everything felt so, _so_ wrong. He could have sworn...

Suddenly he sat bolt upright, shirt soaked in sweat, mind racing. Everything came crashing back to him. The visions, flashes, noises. It had been a dream. All of it. But he knew, somehow, that it was as real as he was. He felt the flood gate in the back of his mind, finally open, months of pressure he hadn't even noticed finally taken away. The headache was gone, and now he was just left with... Arthur didn't know what to call it. Soul-devouring exhaustion didn't even begin to describe it.

He tried to sort it all out in his head. Tried to think back on the painfully boring years in paradise; correlate his newly acquired English with his native Brittonic. Put everything in order so it might feel less overwhelming.

Life, Death, Avalon, Repeat. Except the Repeat part happens 15 hundred years later. OK, not a big deal. Arthur could handle that. He was the king. He'd fought in wars. Time Travel Whiplash shouldn't — _wouldn't_ — be a problem for him.

Arthur let out a shaky exhale, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. From somewhere next to him, a breathy little sigh caught his attention. Turning his gaze in that direction, he saw nothing but a mop of raven hair, curlier than he remembered, just barely managing to cover the tips of two round ears. Merlin's face was hidden in the fold of his arms, But Arthur could still recognize him. 

He'd fallen asleep by Arthur's side, in a position that didn't look terribly comfortable. Arthur took in the chair his friend was sitting in, the books stacked up beside it, the shirt Merlin was wearing — which had changed since he'd last seen him, not that he was paying attention. 

And God, if he thought his dream had been bad, that was nothing compared to the wild range of emotions Arthur felt when he looked at Merlin. Merlin, who he could touch, without dispersing like smoke. Merlin, who wasn't bathed in the blue light of Avalon. 

He was almost scared to reach out. He told himself it was stupid to get so worked up. He'd spent 1500 years with this man, whether Merlin had noticed or not. This couldn't be all that different.

But bloody hell, it was. Because when Arthur tapped Merlin on the forearm and he startled awake, (He always had been a light sleeper) his eyes widened, and they were such a crystal blue that for a second Arthur forgot how to breathe. And Merlin stared. And stared. And stared some more.

Then a smile brighter than a thousand suns lit up his expression, hesitantly, like his brain was just catching up. 

And he asked with a quiet, desperately hopeful voice, "Arthur?"

Arthur didn't say a word. He just reached out both arms, waiting for Merlin to climb into his hug. The warlock didn't waste a single second. He sat up on Arthur's bed so that the two were eye to eye, and melted into his hold. Arthur wrapped his arms around him, buried his face in Merlin's neck, and, for the first time in what felt his entire existence, didn’t mind feeling so vulnerable. Maybe several hundred years ago Arthur would choose death over holding someone so closely, except for maybe Guinevere. But now, it was all he could do to hold the back of Merlin's head against his shoulder and try not to fall apart. It took him what must have been a full minute to realize that they were both shaking. 

Merlin must have noticed it too, because he sniffed, pulling away reluctantly. He smiled, but it fell flat. "I guess that means that you remember, huh?" Arthur nodded silently, his throat thick with all of the things he wanted to say. Merlin tilted his head playfully, still gripping Arthur's arms like a lifeline. "You haven’t gone mute, have you? Because that would probably be the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Arthur shoved him. 

"No." He said, and Merlin's smile dropped. "No, I'm just...reeling." 

He noticed Merlin's frown and asked, "What?"

"Nothing," The warlock muttered. "Its just odd. Hearing you speak English. I know you learned it, but you never used to use it in Avalon."

"Sorry. 6 months makes a habit, I suppose."

Merlin just smiled. "Don't be. It's not a bad kind of odd. Just means I have a new language to annoy you in."

They fell into a stifling kind of silence, and Arthur felt lightheaded, his mind swimming in things that still didn't make sense. Merlin looked down at his lap, his lip trembling like he wanted to say something. "I thought— um. I was scared you wouldn't remember me. Kendrix said... well. None of it sounded good."

Arthur's thumb rubbed slow, thoughtful circles against Merlin's hip, and he pursed his lips. "Did they... did they know?" Merlin didn't say anything, but his silence was answer enough. Arthur tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling. "I knew those prats were hiding something. Did you tell them who you are?" 

Merlin nodded. "Well. You did. You said my name before— before collapsing. Kendrix figured it out pretty quickly."

This wasn't what Arthur wanted to talk about. Not really. He wanted to hold Merlin's face between his hands, tell him how much he'd missed him, apologize for taking so long, and scold him for not taking care of himself. (He had gotten pretty fed up with checking in on Merlin just to find him chugging coffee and not eating.) 

He wanted to wrap Merlin in his tightest hug, take him back to his house (which Arthur had started to call home, after the hundredth time popping in from Avalon) pat Aithusa on the head for the first time, and then sleep for a good ten years. 

He wanted to get out of the room that was decorated with 6 months of his fake identity. He wanted to shut himself away and pretend he hadn't been thrown into the 21st century without a single warning. He wanted a lot of things. 

But it was like his limbs were frozen in place, and his mind was overheating and he couldn't do anything except tell himself, _one thing at a time_. Because right now he needed to be more concerned over the fact that he'd apparently collapsed. Arthur looked out the window, which was shuttered closed, but still had a bit of light coming through. He dragged his hand down his face, asking, "How long was I out?"

"A day." Merlin answered. "Nearly two. Much too long, if you ask me. I've already been subjected to about a dozen of Griffin's drunken card games."

Arthur smiled fondly. "Fun, right?"

"Very." Merlin deadpanned. "The man's almost as bad as Gwaine."

At the name of his old friend, Arthur paused, his smile fading. Merlin seemed to have realized what he said, because his mouth clicked shut, and his hands fiddled in his lap. They sat there for a minute, just a pair of boys again, lost in memories only the two of them could share. Then Merlin huffed out a small breath, the corner of his mouth quirking upward. "They're all going to give me hell next year. For not showing. After I realized you were back, I just kind of... left. Without saying a word."

Arthur nodded. "Well you won't be the only one they'll want to kick in the backside. I don't quite remember being brought back, but I doubt I was able to say goodbye. Plus we had this pact, that whenever I returned I had to give you a hug from each and every one of them. We didn’t know that I would lose my memories, but still. They won't be happy I kept them waiting."

“Why did you?” Merlin wondered. At Arthur’s inquisitive look, he added, “forget everything, I mean. What was the point?”

Arthur thought about it. “I guess… maybe something went wrong, or it was some long forgotten rule for spirits. Or maybe it was intentional, and whatever brought me back wanted me to get my bearings in the new world before I remembered the old one. I don’t know. I’m just glad it wasn’t permanent.”

Merlin picked at a string on his jeans. “Me too. You’d be obnoxious to have to get to know all over again.”

“You have some nerve saying that when you tried to punch me the first time we met.”

“You were _literally_ asking me too!”

Their familiar bickering was interrupted by someone clearing their throat. They had been so deep in conversation that they hadn’t seen Axel peek his head through the door. Now he was watching them with a sort of keen interest, and knowing amusement. “Am I interrupting anything?”

Arthur wasn’t sure how he felt about Axel. Or any of his new friends for that matter. In a way, it almost felt like a betrayal to his mates in Avalon to form friendships so quickly in the real world. It felt too much like he was replacing them, especially since now that he remembered everything, they definitely reminded him of a select few from Camelot. Maybe he had a type. 

But at the same time, he couldn’t deny what Axel, Griffin, and Kendrix had done for him. They didn’t deserve him questioning his existence and relationships. They deserved the world.

Axel took their silence as proof that he was indeed intruding. He smirked. “I’ll go tell Kendrix that you’re awake, since _someone_ failed to shout for us like he was told.” 

Merlin threw up his hands. “I was a little busy, reuniting with the bloody King of Camelot!”

Just to piss Merlin off, Arthur threw Axel a wink. “Plus, he never does what he’s told. Trust me, he’s been my servant for 1500 years.”

Axel held up his hands, like he didn’t want to be a part of the conversation anymore. “Whatever. You two can keep gossiping, I’ll leave you alone now.”

As soon as he ducked out of the room, Merlin grumbled, “You know, for me to be your servant, you kind of have to be… oh I don’t know… alive?”

“You said you would be my servant until the day you died. Not the day I did.”

“I didn’t know I was immortal then!”

“It still counts.”

“Arthur, we’ve been having this argument for a thousand years.”

“And I thought we had concluded that I was right.”

Merlin groaned, letting his head fall against Arthur’s shoulder. “I forgot how much of a prat you can be.”

Arthur smiled against Merlin’s hair, not daring to even breathe, in case he disturbed Merlin or made him move away. “That sounds like a you problem.” 

Not for the first time, Arthur realized how utterly touch starved he was. His whole life, he had shown affection through physical contact. Bumping shoulders, ruffling hair, patting a friend on the back. (Merlin had always accused him of being afraid of hugs, but Arthur didn’t actually mind them all that much. He’d hugged Guinevere plenty, just not Merlin. Or the knights for that matter.) But over 1000 years in Avalon had made him clingy, apparently. Being able to hold or touch Merlin had become so rare, when it started out as a daily occurrence, centuries ago. 

It was pathetic, and he knew it, but a part of him wanted to never let go of the man in front of him. A part of him wanted to just sit there forever, on his bed, with Merlin’s head pressed against his shoulder, and his breath on his collarbone, and his hair against his cheek. 

There was a knock at the door, and Kendrix stuck his head into the room, his eyes wide and owlish, looking almost… shy. Arthur gestured for him to come in, and Merlin turned around to smile at him. Kendrix paused in the doorway, looking very uncomfortable. “Axel says, um. Axel says you remember…?”

From somewhere Arthur couldn’t see, Griffin groaned. “Mate, him being the king of England doesn’t change the fact that he got black out drunk and passed out on your couch every other weekend. Stop acting like a 12 year old.”

Arthur grinned as Griffin shoved his way into the room. Kendrix looked thoroughly offended. “I’m not— it’s just… oh, shut up.”

Merlin stood up, and Arthur followed his lead. Well, he tried too, anyway. He managed to slide his legs out from under the blankets, but when he tried to stand, he couldn’t. He rocked forward, trying to shift his weight onto his feet, but his entire body just felt so _heavy_. Griffin placed a hand on his shoulder. “Fainting must have taken a lot out of you. Axel got pizza, since you haven’t eaten in a good day and a half.” 

Arthur whined, letting his body fall back into the mattress. 

Merlin waved at Kendrix, who was frowning at Arthur uncertainly. “Can I speak with you?” Kendrix nodded absently and followed Merlin out of the room. Huh.

Griffin rocked on the balls of his feet. “Alone at last. I feared this moment would never come.”

Arthur threw a pillow at him. “Yeah. Such a blessing that no one will be able to hear your scream.”

Griffin tossed the pillow right back. Now that Kendrix had left the room, his confidence seemed to have dropped, and he was a little more awkward. Arthur patted the bed for him to sit down, stuffing the pillow under his head. “What’s up?”

Griffin hesitated. “Too many things, man. Too many things.” He sat down heavily, sighing. “Merlin just… showed up, when you passed out. At first I thought you were gonna die, he looked so scared. I didn’t even know him, and, well, I _thought_ that he didn’t know you. And then Kendrix invites him into our car. This complete stranger, who is acting way too weird around you, like he wants to just grab you and run. And when he told us everything, how he met you, how you guys lived, what happened back then… I don’t know. I guess I never really believed it until then. I had always been pretty skeptical, and to be honest, I was hoping you would stay the way you were, that Kendrix and Axel would be proved wrong, that maybe, you were just some normal bloke. It’s hard to reconcile my time spent drinking my body weight in alcohol at college parties, to having King Arthur as my flatmate.”

“Well if it makes you feel any better, I’m not much of a king anymore.” Arthur laced his hands over his stomach, staring at the ceiling. “I’m not sure I ever really was.”

“Merlin seems to disagree.”

“Yeah, well. Let’s just say he’s let me get away with things that I probably shouldn’t, and he has a nasty habit of forgiving me for… everything. All the shit I throw at him.” 

Griffin frowned. Before he had the chance to say anything however, Arthur inhaled sharply, sitting up and massaging his forehead. “Right. I’m hungry. You said Axel had pizza?”

Griffin nodded, his brow still furrowed. “I’ll… I’ll get him to bring it in here. Stay there, I don’t want you collapsing again.”

Arthur put a hand over his chest, faking flattery. “I never knew you cared.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Just stay put.”

**(•)**

Merlin wasn’t feeling all that great. His head was spinning, his stomach was doing flips, and his legs felt like wet noodles. He’d barely managed to stand up to lead Kendrix out of the room.

Kendrix’s frown deepened as his eyes flicked over Merlin’s expression, once they were outside. “Are you OK?”

“Yeah, sorry, I just needed to get out of that room, get some fresh air. I guess I’ve been in there a while.” Merlin braced his hand against the wall, trying to keep himself upright. “I didn’t want to overwhelm Arthur, either.” He cleared his throat. “Bit of an odd question, but do you happen to have Advil?”

“Erm… yeah. We should. Would you like me to get it for you?”

“Please, that’d be great.”

Kendrix walked away, leaving Merlin to lean back against the wall, swallowing thickly. Being so close to Arthur, who was alive, awake, and talking to him, had been too much apparently. He felt so lightheaded he could barely breathe. _What the hell is wrong with me?_

Griffin passed him on his way out of the room, looking him up and down. He looked like he wanted to say something, but Merlin gave him a weak smile that he hoped translated to, _I’m fine._

He wasn’t.

Kendrix came back with a glass of water and a couple of pills, and Merlin accepted them gratefully, his vision starting to blur. The air around him began to hum with energy as he shut his eyes tightly. He felt like he was going to throw up.

Kendrix placed a worried hand on Merlin’s shoulder, and he slowly began trying to ground himself. The noise in his head faded slightly, but his thoughts were still a little fuzzy with panic. He opened his eyes, and Kendrix immediately took his hand away, giving him a once over. “That was… weird. You good?”

Merlin nodded, his throat dry. “I probably just need sleep. I get spells like this a couple times, don’t take care of myself well enough, I guess.”

Kendrix didn’t look convinced, but gestured to Arthur’s room. “Come on, you probably need to eat too.”

Merlin’s stomach rebelled at the thought of food, but he followed Kendrix into the room anyway. Alex and Griffin were in there, sitting at the foot of Arthur’s bed with plates stacked high with pizza. Arthur looked up when Merlin entered the room, then shifted over from where he was sitting, making room. Merlin sat down next to him, grabbing a slice from his plate and nibbling at it, leaning his head against Arthur’s shoulder. “What was that about?” Arthur asked him.

Merlin shrugged. “Nothing you need to worry about. Just had a question.”

Someone started talking after that, but Merlin wasn’t listening. There was static all around him, as he tried to take larger bites out of his pizza and focus on the rhythm of Arthur’s breathing, and his hand on Merlin’s thigh.

Everything felt wrong.

**(•)**

A figure of pale light stole quietly through the empty city, the blue hue to her skin blending in well with her surroundings. Her dark hair was tucked into her cloak, and she pulled it lower over her face, her heart racing. The city was quiet, and less guarded than she expected. It felt like a ghost town, which she supposed it technically was. Magical energy hummed in her veins, pulsing around her like waves on a lakes surface, so powerful that it was almost painful for her to move through.

Still, she followed it to its source, casting her gaze about to make sure she hadn’t been detected. She couldn’t afford to fail. Not with the whole world riding on this.

She pulled to a halt in front of a ball of pure energy, filling the air with a horrible ringing, washing everything in a golden light, burning at the woman’s skin, making her squint against its force. Her whole being ached, standing so close to the Heart.

The woman blew out a sharp breath, pulling her hood down, fiddling with the soft fabric. There was not time to waste. And yet… she’d never really been the self-sacrificing type. She always fancied the idea of finding a way around any predicament she might find herself in. But this wasn’t something she could worm her way out of.

So she reached out her hand, palm facing away from her body, as if to touch the searing energy of the Heart, thinking, _This had better work._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By now it feels like I'm just stalling with these chapters, since nothing super big is happening. But I have good news!! I finally figured out the plot for this story! It's still a little fresh in my mind, so I'm not sure if I'll change aspects of it, but I finally know the gist of what I'm going to do. Turns out all I needed was to rewatch The Gates of Avalon. I had been toying around with half formed plot ideas for a while, but while I was watching that episode it all kind of came together. Apparently it's a super inspiring episode because not only did I instantly work out my plot problem, but I also came up with a head canon and a new fic idea. So cheers to that ep, I guess. 
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading <3 here's to hoping I don't make you wait too long for chapter nine!


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